Fire Prince: Through Fire and Brimstone
by Black Wren Sky
Summary: Ace is taken aboard the Maiden's Sorrow two weeks after leaving Windmill Village. Captain Flint, a pirate of great notoriety for all the worst reasons, decides to force him to be the ship's new cabin boy after Ace challenges him. When the crew ends up in danger, Ace must make the decision to escape or save the crew he never wanted to be part of.
1. The Worst of Luck

Ace is taken aboard the Maiden's Sorrow two weeks after leaving Windmill Village. Captain Flint, a pirate of great notoriety for all the worst reasons, decides to force him to be the ship's new cabin boy after Ace challenges him. Ace is then forced to work on the ship and participate in various pirate activities some of which Ace despises. His several attempts to leave the ship are thwarted and he loses hope that he will ever be free again. One day the crew goes ashore when they discover an empty village only to realize a horror they had never considered has nested there. Ace then must make a choice between escape or saving the crew he never wanted to be part of.

Before proceeding with reading this story, I must warn readers that this is not a happy-go-lucky pirate group. Flint and the Headhunters embody the darkest aspects of piracy in the One Piece world. There are four separate sexual assault events and a suicide attempted with encouragement that some readers may find disturbing. There is also foul language, violence and gore. There is a reason I settled on the name "Through Fire and Brimstone". This ship, the Maiden's Sorrow, is the personification of Hell on the sea.

Chapter 1: The Worst of All Luck

Ace leaned his chin on the rail and stared out at the empty see. The wind had refused to blow for the past three days and his supplies had run out. He was in the middle of nowhere with no food, no water, no shelter and no land in sight. The sail on his own little boat hung limp and offered no shade from the unforgiving sun. Ace felt his consciousness slipping, time passed without his awareness.

_I wasn't prepared at all for this_, thought Ace as he flopped back into the bottom of his boat, his hat falling over his face in an effort to protect its scorched skin from the blistering rays. Too little hat, too much exposed skin and the heat penetrated the fabric anyway.

"Sabo did mention something about not minding studying if it was for going out to sea. I guess I should have done some studying myself," muttered Ace, his voice hoarse from dehydration, but the sound helped to focus his thoughts. He feared if he fell asleep now, he would never wake, and he wasn't ready to give up. This really couldn't be how it ended for him, to die at sea unknown not even acknowledged as a pirate. A far cry from his dream of being a pirate of world renown.

"Maybe the world really does have it in for me." Hopelessness was hard to fight on an empty stomach.

A moment later he felt something cool touch his sunburned arms and heard the fabric of his sail ruffle. Ace sat up, a burst of energy filling him now that a wind had appeared along with the promise of carrying his tiny craft to an island where food and water were. He began adjusting the sail to make full use of the light breeze. He would not waste this reprieve with unproductive celebration or pronouncements. Save that for when he got to the island and could feast.

A shadow crossed him and his boat. He turned to look up and saw a great four-masted ship coming alongside him. Ace knew enough about ships from living near a port town to realize the square sails and rigging were that of a four-masted barque. She was a good size one, nearly four hundred feet in length. Barques could carry more crewmen than were needed to run the ship. So, they tended to be either training vessels with more than half the crew learning the ropes or cargo vessels where the extra space was granted to labor and fighting sailors to help protect the ship in case of pirate raids.

Ace sighed in relief. He didn't know what he'd do if it had been a Marine ship. With his merry little spade pirate flag hanging from the top of his mast, it might have been the end of him or worse his grandfather would hear about it. Nothing would be worse than having to face his Marine grandfather. The man would haul Ace to a training camp by his ears to become a Marine if he caught him out here. A trade ship would not be so strict.

Ace squinted against the glare of the midday sun to look for faces on the trade ship. Perhaps he could barter for some supplies at least. Better would be if he could catch a ride and tow to the nearest island if it wasn't out or their way. That would save him from getting caught in another dull drum. The ship pulled alongside his dingy and several heads peered over the railing to look at him. Ace raised a hand to the crew.

"Hey there!" Ace called up to them. "I'm a bit down on my luck. Is there any way I can get a ride to the next island? I'd really appreciate it. I am willing to work in exchange for the lift and whatever you feed me. If not, how about some supplies?" While Ace went out to sea to be a pirate, he was in no position to do more than be polite and offer legitimate trade for goods since he had no money to purchase it yet. Barques may not have the crews of the big galleons but a trade ship traveling alone would have a crew that could fight. Now was not the time to get himself killed because he wanted to steal his supplies. That would be spitting contempt at the mercy the sea had just offered him.

Some of the men grinned and a couple snickered. Ace wondered about their amusement when an older man appeared at the railing.

"Sure, lad," called the man. "Come aboard my ship and we'll discuss the arrangement." The sun was behind the sails, but enough rays leaked through the gaps to make discerning details of the crew impossible from his vantage point. But something about the voice seemed… familiar.

Ace hesitated for a moment, sudden paranoia pinging his inner alarm, but shook it off. He didn't have a lot of choice. He couldn't stay on his boat anymore. The men tossed down a Jacob's Ladder and he climbed up. Once on the deck he looked over the crew. There were nearly thirty men and all of them looked unscrupulous. Growing up around thugs, bandits and pirates it was a familiar look but one that made the young man wary. Those types were his preferred prey back on his home island after all. Trade crew could be just as rough, but they had always held a layer of legitimacy that true thugs, and these men, lacked.

Suspicious, Ace cast his eyes upward seeking the ship's flag. Something he should have done before climbing aboard. The sun was still glaring from beyond the sails, but he spied it anyway. A rectangle of black fabric flapping in the light breeze at the top of the masts, though the angle was all wrong for him to see the flag's image. Black meant only one thing, though, Pirate Ship. Ace looked back at the crew and shifted to a more guarded stance. Pirates were a role of the dice. Some could be awesome others were bastards. Ace didn't know which had just found him.

"I see ye've begun to realize this int a trade vessel, lad," said the man in that familiar voice that continued to ring Ace's inner alarm bell. The man was wearing a long coat of dark blue over a light gray shirt and black pants. Calf-high boots adorned his feet and Ace thought he saw the top of a dagger in each one. A cutlass hung on his left hip and a pistol adorned the right. Gray-streaked ginger hair crowned his head, and a short, neatly trimmed gray beard decorated his face. He leaned on a cane with more weight than was necessary if it were mere show and green eyes glittered in amusement as Ace's tension. Ace was certain that he was the captain.

Worse, Ace feared he recognized the captain. He turned his attention briefly to the rest of the crew, seeking other familiar faces.

The rest looked to be in their thirties and forties, maybe a little older, with two exceptions. The first, a young man with fawn hair and brown eyes filled with sadness stood behind the captain. He wore a cream shirt with brown vest and long pants and mid-calf boots. The second, another older gent that appeared to around the same age as the captain. The man had what was left of his gray hair tied back in a horsetail, wore glasses and wore similar clothes to the captain but without the coat. His calm demeanor and stance suggested he was the vice-captain, though his dark eyes were shrewd.

Ace returned his attention to the captain. He had encountered a green-eyed captain that walked with a cane when he was still small. He had been lucky to survive that chance meeting. If this was the same captain, then he was dead. But was it the same captain? Ace hadn't had time to memorize the whole crew, nor the inclination, but he didn't recognize anyone from that time. Maybe it was a different captain.

The man smiled at Ace in an appreciative manner. As if Ace's inspection of the crew had impressed him in some small way. Ace wasn't sure he liked that. The captain back then had seemed similarly impressed but that hadn't stopped him from trying to kill him when he murdered everyone in the bar.

"Ye have clear eyes," said the captain. "Even though, ye've realized where ye are, yer nerve hasn't left ye. I like that."

"I've dealt with thugs my whole life," declared Ace refusing to show his growing fear. If this was where he was going to die, then he was going to make these wretches earn his death. "Hell, I was raised by some. It's going to take a lot more than a bunch of swaggering sea dogs to scare me."

Some of the crew growled in anger but the captain laughed. So had the other captain. Ace felt his heart rate increase. "I like ye, lad! Tell me where ye were heading in yer little boat before ye got into this bind?"

Ace's hope that this wasn't the same crew as before was sinking fast, but he would not let them know that. If it wasn't the same crew, he might just bluff his way through this, if it was…. Well they didn't seem to recognize him so he still might bluff his way through this. Though _that_ crew was not known to fall for bluffs. He still wished he had been found by a trade ship even if the captain's question made him realize how much trouble that might have been for him. He would have rather stumbled his way through a naked lie than be here trying to bluff his way with _that_ captain.

"I've gone out to sea to form my own crew of pirates and find the One Piece." He said the words with pride and not a trace of shame. The crew burst out laughing. Ace half expected his dream to be mocked but he felt his blood boil anyway.

"On a wee boat like that?" asked the captain gesturing at the small sailing craft Ace had been using. "These waters are notorious for their stretches of calm. Do ye even have a chart or a compass to find yer way around the sea? And how is a green horn like ye going to inspire anyone to follow ye? Men want a leader with vision and experience or else they are just going to be promised an early death."

Ace turned red with rage and embarrassment. The captain was one hundred percent correct; he didn't know what he was doing. His ten days starving on windless waters had made that painfully clear to him. However, there was no way he was going to admit that to him. He could not appear weak or intimidated for an instant. He needed to remain confident.

"Shut up! It's no skin off your nose what I do," snapped Ace. "I'll decide what can and can't happen myself."

"Oi! Show some respect you little shit!" snarled one of the crew, a man with no hair, a tiny face in a meaty head and twice Ace's size. Just one of a dozen brainless musclemen that Ace had practiced beating up for years. This would boost his reputation with this crew. They might take him more seriously and be more likely to help if they didn't think he was a pathetic weakling living in dreams.

Ace turned to face him, raising his fists. "Make me, meat pie." The man growled and charged throwing a punch down at the smaller, younger man. Ace dodged then leapt up, slamming a knee into the big man's nose. The man stumbled backwards but a back fist knocked Ace into the mast. The big man was on him before Ace had time to recover his breath. He was a little better than the standard musclemen Ace had faced before. He wrapped Ace's torso in one meaty fist and slammed him against the mast again now at his head's height. Which left Ace's feet kicking wildly in thin air.

"I'm going to rearrange your face then make you cry for your mama," the big man stated as he raised his other fist to strike. Ace sent a glob of spit into the other man's eye. The man roared and moved to strike when a calm voice called out.

"Enough."

The big man froze and looked over. The captain was now standing next to them.

"But Captain!" protested the big man.

The captain's green eyes flashed annoyance. "I said enough. Put him down. I like his fire. It is much easier to tame a fire than it is to stoke one that is non-existent. He just needs discipline to know when to pick his fights. I want him for my crew."

The big man dropped Ace like the youngster had suddenly turned into a lump of burning coal. He snarled but said nothing more as he walked away from two. Ace stood up, his insides knotting themselves. This was _that_ crew. That calm voice that had stopped his man. It was the exact same calm voice that had been used by the captain of twelve years earlier right before he killed his own crewman for disobeying orders. Swallowing his terror, Ace glared at the captain.

"What makes you think I want to join your crew?" Ace said in a low menacing voice. Or as menacing as he could get it while clenching his fists to hide their trembling.

"What makes ye think ye have a choice, lad?" replied the man with a smile and equally low voice. Menace wasn't necessary, the unspoken promise of death laced his words. He seemed so harmless as he leaned on his cane, ignoring the arsenal he carried, but Ace knew the truth. He had seen the man in action twelve years ago. How quickly he changed from harmless tradesman to cold-blooded killer without losing his smile. There hadn't been a warning before he unleashed his wrath on the bar, ending the lives of every man and woman present not just the target of his ire.

"I'll take my chances with the sea," hissed Ace, intending to return to his boat even without supplies. He had not been lucky after all; the sea had sent a curse his way. He needed to get out here now before the wind died again and he was stuck once more. However, he could not, must not, stay on this boat a second longer. Not with _this_ man!

Before Ace could take one step, the captain grabbed his hand and bent it back. The sharp intense pain drove Ace to his knees. Ace gasped and reached up to free his hand, but the captain doubled his efforts and Ace could only bend forward trying to relieve some of the pressure on his arm. So fast and again no warning. Ace would have cut off his own arm, but he had nothing to do that with. He had lost his dagger while fishing when the fish proved too much to handle. The fish in the oceans were nothing like the ones at home in the river or by the shore.

"Discipline," said the captain and the older man raised his cane over his head then brought it down with such force and speed that it made a swish noise as it moved. The cane struck Ace's exposed back causing him to cry out in pain and surprise. The cane fell four more times, each eliciting a cry of agony from the young man.

"Now that ye understand not to mouth off to yer captain, lad, I expect more respect from ye in the coming months. Ye're now the cabin boy of the Headhunter Pirates under the command of me, Flint. Accept it. Dinnae worry, though, I'll whip ye into a pirate worthy of being a captain. Yer time here willnae be a waste." The captain smirked.

Ace could only stare at the deck as he gasped. It wasn't until that moment that he realized he had still held hope that this wasn't them. That this wasn't the Headhunter Pirates that had massacred the Dancing Bear Tavern on a whim. That this wasn't Captain Flint the most dangerous cutthroat to have ever sailed the high seas. But it was Captain Flint of the Headhunter Pirates, the most murderous, blood-thirsty pirates in all of history. Ace knew one thing for certain; if he didn't find a way to escape this ship, he was doomed.

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Well here it is, nearly a year after its inception. This changed from its original vision and underwent a bit of rewrite in sections. Hope you enjoy!

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	2. Flint

Chapter 2: Flint

Flint pulled the lad back up to his feet then turned to survey his crew. A tall lanky man in long red coat lined in black fur with a black fur cap stood to the side with arms crossed. Unlike Flint's goatee, this man had a full facial beard, but neatly trimmed. Brown eyes watched the captain with what appeared to everyone else as mild interest, but Flint knew to be intense scrutiny.

Rasputan.

Flint grinned then shoved his newest acquisition toward him. "Hold him, so he doesn't try anything stupid. I have something to address before I continue with his orientation."

"I am not a babysitter," Rasputan said with a roll of his eyes even as he grabbed the young man's arm. He spoke in that curious thick accent that Flint recognized as being from the frozen isles of Serban in North Blue. The men and women there were fierce in disposition, somewhat isolated due to all the sea ice that formed in their area and had a history of causing problems for the World Government, when they chose to go to sea. Rasputan dressed and acted similar to the stories of the old warriors that were referred to as Cossacks. He laughed and smiled often and could be friends with anyone when he chose to. He was also the most dangerous man on the ship.

Flint was under no illusions with the man. If Rasputan wanted the ship for himself, he could take it in a heartbeat and there was nothing Flint could do about it. He just didn't want the captain's seat and was perfectly content to hang around in the shadows. As such, he was the only man Flint trusted completely.

The youngster had other ideas. He threw a fist at the Cossack as soon as he pulled within range. Rasputan caught the fist while looking only mildly annoyed. The lad tried a roundhouse kick. Rasputan didn't even acknowledge the blow.

"Enough with your pointless fighting. If you don't settle down, I will give you reason to howl like baby."

Flint smirked and turned away. Despite the lad's fussing, Rasputan had him under control. His smile faded as his attention went to his crew. "What are ye waiting for, Scunners? Get yer asses up the masts and switch those flags!" shouted Flint as he jerked his cane up toward the flapping pirate flags. "The wind is up, and the Marines will be here soon. I will not have the Andrea tied to the Maiden because of yer complacency. If I have to abandon the East Blue because of this, ye all will be replaced before we reach Saboady."

The men practically flew up the rigging with the Duchy of Kels flag, a green flag with a roaring red lion on a gold shield, to replace their own jolly roger, a black flag with the standard skull and crossbones and a sword running through the forehead of the skull.

"Ye three!" shouted Flint, stopping a trio that were about to pointlessly go up in blind obedience. They only really needed eight men to swap out the four flags. Four to work on taking the jolly rogers off the other four to grab the new flags and run them up the masts. "Get the lad's boat up. We can use it as a replacement for the damaged longboat." The three scrambled to hook and pull the small one-man sailing boat and bring it aboard.

The four black flags had no sooner vanished below deck when the lookout spotted what Flint had known would happen. Three Marine ships appeared on the horizon, the same three that had been chasing the Maiden's Sorrow before she had sailed into the Alure Sea. The fickle area of the East Blue was notorious for its calm spells and it had been in the middle of one when Flint dove his ship straight into it to shake his pursuit.

Flint walked as fast he could with his cane and useless leg to a call horn on the main deck. It was hidden beneath the stair since its presence would make inspectors suspicious.

He pulled the cover off and called into it, "Scottie, how are the engines?"

Flint's secret weapon and the means for many a narrow escape. He had engines on his ship that allowed her to sail even when the wind was against or nonexistent. They were strong enough to push the loaded Maiden through the water faster than a Marine battleship could sail against the wind, but with the wind, it was wiser to leave the power to their own sails. There was just one small problem.

"Not good, Captain," Scottie's voice came back. He sounded a little panicked. "The engines are fine, but we went full power for too long. I have the pumps working and we're doing what we can to patch this up, but tar and rubber aren't going to fix this."

Groan. The engines power was often too much for the wooden hull, even an ironwood hull, to handle. She sprung leaks whenever, she went full power, and they had used it to escape the earlier pursuit. Flint didn't believe the pursuers had seen the flag switch but he liked having options.

He glanced at Rasputan and the new lad. The Cossack had moved so he was behind the stairs on the port side. The Marines wouldn't see him or the young man unless they came around or came aboard the ship. If the ships looked like they would come about, Rasputan would move inside. However, the danger was in if they came aboard.

Flint had no time to prep the reluctant recruit for a Marine inspection and he had no idea if the lad's desire to leave the ship would cause him to throw his lot in with the Marines, little dinky pirate dreams or not. The small sailboat was still being stripped of its sail and mast. Then there was the flooding currently keeping his shipwright and a few of the men below busy. This would not be a good time for an inspection, which required all hands to be topside. They couldn't out sail the incoming Marines, they wouldn't have a prayer of out fighting them, one battleship was a problem, three would be impossible. He sighed and closed the lid on the call horn and walked toward the portside railing. Time for his best acting.

"Get the ship moving under the breeze but dinnae look as if we are running," called Flint. "We're just blessedly happy to be getting a breeze after sailing into a calm several days ago." The men called out their understanding as they set about adjusting the sails and sailing the ship with a touch of urgency but not alarm.

Flint glanced at Rasputan. The lad was still putting up a fight, but the Cossack was grinning like a fiend. He looked a great deal like a not-hungry cat with a particularly rambunctious mouse. He was switching hands as he batted the youngster, but the lad was never free of his hold. Stubborn or desperate, Flint couldn't decide.

"They're signaling us," called the look out. "They want to talk."

"Good! Give them our compliance," called Flint. This meant the Marine didn't think he was a pirate. The Maiden's disguise still held. He stood at the railing. He glanced once more at Rasputan as one of the Marine vessels pulled alongside, the other two hung back, ready to intervene should trouble start. The Cossack had an arm wrapped around the young man's chest now, pinning the arms. The other hand was clamped over the lad's mouth. He was being held just high enough that he couldn't stomp or kick the deck, though, he was trying. It never failed to amaze Flint just how sturdy the tall lanky Cossack was.

Flint returned his attention to the incoming Marines. The battleship pulled alongside them. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. How is yer day going?"

"Have you seen a pirate ship sail by?" demanded the commanding officer, not bothering with pleasantries.

Flint feigned surprise. "No, I huvnae. Ye're the first ship we've seen in days. Blasted rookie fell asleep at the helm and sailed us straight into the Alure Sea. Lost the wind soon after. We just got it back when yer ships appeared."

The Marine Commander blanched and looked around as if he could verify his position from sight alone.

"If we might continue this conversation elsewhere, please," said Flint with a touch of concern in voice. "I would not like to lose the wind again and become stranded. This sea is rather fickle."

"Yes… No! You didn't see anyone, truly?" The commander suddenly seemed distracted. Being reminded he was in the Alure Sea had robbed him of his desire to hassle the trade ship. Flint suppressed the urge to smile.

"No, I didnae. Who are ye looking for?"

"Never mind, it's not your concern. Have a good day, Captain."

Flint tipped his head. "Same to ye, good sirs."

The Marine battleship pulled away and soon the Maiden was sailing alone again, the three battleships vanishing over the horizon. Flint didn't let out the breath he was holding until they were gone from sight.

A heavy THWACK! followed by a yelp of pain came from his left. Flint glanced over toward Rasputan. The Cossack now had the young man bent over his knee, arm pinned behind the lad's back to hold him in place, and was slapping his upturned, but still clothed, ass.

"I told you, that if you didn't stop, I would make you howl like baby," said Rasputan. He raised his free hand brought it down with another THWACK! The stream of curses and insults the hot-headed youngster had been snarling was interrupted by a second yelp.

"Seems I need to get a bar of soap for the lad, that mouth is filthier than a sewage dump," said Flint.

Rasputan didn't pause his spanking as he replied, "Good idea. Let me just finish tenderizing Roger's boy.

The lad stopped his insults to look at Rasputan, horrified. Flint tilted his head in question. "Roger's boy?"

"I thought you recognized him," said Rasputan. "He's the little urchin from the Dancing Bear Tavern in Goa. Twelve years ago, you saved him from stupid pirates who were disparaging Roger. Remember? He was rather upset you killed the girls. It's why he recognized you as a pirate, Captain. You could see on his face that he realized who you were before he saw the flags."

_Oh…_ Flint looked at the young man with renewed appreciation. Roger's son gazed back at him with renewed terror. What a fortuitous event this was. He grinned. He had hoped he would meet that little lad again. How nice of him to come out to see him.

"And here I was thinking there were two lads with over the top gumption," said Flint. "However, it doesn't look like ye learned anything from our last meeting."

The lad spit an exceptionally nasty expletive at Flint, only to cry out when Rasputan gave him an extra hard slap.

"Take yer time and make sure he's properly repentant," said Flint. "I have some business to attend to with the crew first, anyway. He can chew soap after I'm done." Rasputan responded by giving the lad's ass another hard blow.

Flint signaled his bosun. "Now lads," he cooed. The men who had been snickering at their newest cabin boy's situation stopped. "Changing the flags is supposed to be the first order of business." The Bosun unhooked his whip from his belt as the men all blanched with the realization of what was to come next.

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When I originally started to write this, I had a completely different set up in mind on how the story would present it itself. Chapter 1 was originally the prologue then it would skip ahead to the events of Murkwood with a break in the middle for flashbacks. So other than the Murkwood sequence, which is at the end, a lot of the chapters were one shot glimpses of life aboard the Maiden's Sorrow. All of it from Ace's point of view. However, I ended up with too many of these "flashbacks" and really needing to change perspective in order to better show what was going on. Thus, the story reorganized itself into its current form. This meant expanding on the one-shot chapters to reduce the abruptness feeling they had.

This chapter was a late edition. Even during the July/August burst to get the story written, this chapter wasn't planned. It wasn't until the first read through that I decided to add it. Until then the actions taken following Ace's conscription were referenced only in later chapters.

Being that it was such a late edition I had to be careful not to write actions or quotes that would be contradicted later in the story if only to avoid the hassle of another major rewrite of later chapters. This did happen a few times.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	3. The Mark

Chapter 3: The Mark

When Ace awoke, his hopes that yesterday was just a bad dream brought about by heat stroke were dashed immediately. He was lying on a cot inside a barred cell below deck. He had been brought to their brig once they were through tormenting him.

Ace couldn't believe the crew had just laid down and took their whipping in mass like that. Each man had received fifteen strokes total for failing to switch the flags out immediately. Five initially then another ten when Flint wasn't convinced they were taking his lecture seriously. He felt confusion over the whole idea of switching one's flags, however, because of it, the Marines hadn't realized they were talking to a pirate ship. It hadn't even occurred to them that this ship was the one they were looking for. How could switching out flags confuse them that much? Just how stupid were they to not recognize the ship or the captain?

Ace sighed and sat up slowly only to stifle a yelp as his bruised bottom made contact with the oak boards of the cot. He stood up while a hand lightly rubbed the offended area. He pulled down his shorts to assess the damage. From his limited view he saw a red, swollen ass with black and purple handprint shaped bruises. He pulled his shorts back up with a grimace. To make matters worse his mouth still tasted like soap.

After Flint was done with the crew, he had had Ace tied to a chair then stuck a bar of soap that was just little too big for his mouth. His teeth had bitten into as a result making it impossible to spit the bar out. The captain had then proceeded to give him a run down of what the expectation were on the ship along with a long list of rules he wasn't supposed to violate.

When Flint realized Ace was too busy being mad over the bar of soap in his mouth to listen, he had rolled up Ace's shorts to expose his thighs then struck him with a strap of leather. Ace suffered three rounds of that before he finally gave Flint his full attention.

Ace felt the stiffness in his legs as he began to move around his small cell and pulled up the ends of the pant legs. Thick black lines crisscrossed the tops of his thighs. He let the pant legs fall back into place when he heard someone coming down the stairs.

"My, aren't you a late riser." Ace recognized him as the bosun, the instrument of his position coiled at his hip. He held a tray in his hands that contained a bowl, a tankard, a loaf of bread and an apple.

Ace said nothing, not trusting himself to speak and not eager to feel the bosun's skill with a whip for himself. He had witnessed enough of it yesterday.

The bosun balanced the tray on his left hand as he pulled out a key with his right and placed it in the door. He didn't look at Ace, but said in a calm voice, "Rush me, and I get to place stripes on your back, and you won't be fed again until tomorrow."

Ace's traitorous stomach growled in that moment. The bosun smirked then opened the door. He placed the tray on the cot, then stood there and planted his hands on his hips.

"Eat, now," he said. "The captain wants to see you once you're through."

"What the fuck does he want?" asked Ace.

The bosun glared and said, "I guess we missed a spot yesterday."

Ace clamped his mouth shut as he realized what the man was alluding to. He did not want to have any more soap in his mouth.

"Eat!" barked the bosun when Ace didn't move. "You're going to the captain when you're done. And if you are not going to eat then you're done, and we'll go now."

Ace's stomach twisted painfully and emitted another growl, more demanding this time. He couldn't do anything on an empty stomach. He sat down with a huff. His backside speared him with agony, and he paused as the shock waves rolled through him.

The bosun smirked. "That looked like that hurt. Pride does often when you prioritize it over common sense. He really gave you a good whooping, too, and to think he's the easy going one of the crew. Heh! Probably shouldn't have bitten him."

Ace bit the tough bread before his mouth betrayed him again. He ate quickly, feeling like it was not nearly enough to satisfy him. He could eat heaping amounts of food in one sitting. This little offering was barely a snack. He didn't dare complain.

Once he was finished, the bosun grabbed his arm and pulled him to the door, he then shoved Ace in front of him. "Let's go, boy."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They arrived at a room that had a counter along one wall with cabinets both above and below. A single chair, a man-sized table at waist height, and three cots beyond them in a narrower part of the room. A single round window allowed light to enter the cot area at the far end. Lanterns lit the main area. An elderly man with white hair, blue eyes and a disapproving scowl eyed the newest recruit with misgivings.

"I have a feeling I'm going to be wasting a lot of medical supplies on this one," he grumped.

"What's the point of having them if ye dinnae use them?"

Ace jumped as Flint voice came from just behind him. He spun and the captain stood there grinning at him, the bosun to the side.

"A might jumpy, aren't we?" said Flint. He then raised his cane and pointed at the table with it. "Get on the table, lad. The good doctor here needs to give ye an examine, though, I'm pretty sure ye're as healthy as they come. But protocol and all…"

Ace looked at the table then back at Flint in confusion. "Examine? Whatever for? I'm not sick."

"I said, it's protocol. Quarken needs to know where normal is if he is to determine when ye're deviating from it," explained Flint.

"Though, he's been starving and in need of water for however long he was trapped in the Alure Sea," muttered Quarken.

"I'm fine!" snapped Ace, certain he didn't want to be examined by anyone on this crew. "A little food and water and I'll be fine."

"Joys of youth," muttered the doctor, then he eyed Ace. "How old is the lad anyway?"

"Eighteen going on five," replied Flint. "On the table, Susie Q!"

"Su-su….!" Ace sputtered in outrage, completely forgetting who he was talking to as his temper flared. "The name's Ace and I'm seventeen!" Flint looked at him like he didn't believe him, not surprising. Roger had perished fifteen months before Ace was born. He should have been eighteen at minimum to be Roger's child. His mother had somehow delayed his develop while the Marines had searched the whole island, terrorizing new mothers and mother-to-be as they searched for the woman carrying the Pirate King's baby.

"That is a nice trick your mother pulled," said a baritone with a thick accent from behind him. It was the man who had spanked him yesterday. When did he show up? Ace didn't remember seeing him when he had looked the room over.

Hands grabbed his upper arms and he was lifted into the air just high enough for his butt to clear the end of the table. "I imagine she didn't survive it, though," the speaker continued. "They rarely do."

Ace was pulled over the table and dropped. It was only a few inches, but the impact outraged the bruises on his ass. Ace yelled and bent in half on the table as he held his offended rear-end.

"Ace, huh?" said Flint. "And ye had a spade on yer flag. Any particular reason for the ominous symbol?" Ace didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. What did he mean ominous symbol?

"Stop being stubborn," he continued. He didn't seem to care about getting a response to his question. "This will hurt a lot less if ye would just cooperate."

Quarken forced him to sit up. Ace clamped down on the whimpers that wanted to escape, he had disgraced himself enough. He needed to stop looking like a pathetic weakling!

The doctor place the cold metal disk of his stethoscope against Ace's chest. "Breathe normally, lad. I can't hear anything worth hearing while yer breathing like a racehorse." Ace glared but tried to control his breathing, taking in huge lung fulls and holding it for a second before exhaling. The disc moved around his chest then to his back. Satisfied he began his other checks, strapping a band around Ace's arm and inflating it while placing the stethoscope against his wrist. Then he felt the area around Ace's neck, shined a light in his eyes, poked into his ears and finished with examining Ace's mouth. Ace glowered at the other men through the whole process.

"Now was that so terrible?" asked Flint with an amused drawl. Ace turned red in embarrassment.

"Now brace yerself, lad," continued Flint as he turned to face the counter. The bosun stood there now with a set of clamps. They were small, no longer than a palm of his hand, with the ends flat but thick. Something pointed appeared from the center. The bosun held the small point into a candle while the clamp was nearly closed until it and a small disk on the other side glowed white with heat.

"This part is the least pleasant of this whole procedure."

Ace was pushed down onto the table. He grimaced as the bruises on his back let their presence be known then he gasped in alarm when a thick belt crossed his chest and arms and tightened. He was now tied to the table.

"What are you doing?" he cried, his voice cracking. Did they examine him to figure out how much torture he could endure? That didn't make any sense since it wasn't like he knew anything.

"Hold still," ordered the tall man. He turned Ace's head until his right ear was pressed against the unyielding table. "If you move during this, it will be much worse for you."

"Ye see," said Flint. "I can't afford to mark my crew as other captains might due to the nature of my operation, but I do need a way to declare what's mine without the Marines being the wiser. This is the solution I came up with. The earring ye are about to receive, doesn't come off, its soldered into place but it looks no different from regular earrings that sailors everywhere enjoy. I can then attach loops that mark ye as mine when it is necessary and remove them when they would be a hindrance. But the main stud remains, no matter what. Just like ye'll remain on this ship until death takes me… or ye."

The bosun appeared in Ace's line of sight with the clamps and the superheated earring. Ace kicked but no one was in range of his feet or knees. He closed his eyes as the clamp neared his ear. He screamed as the metal burned its way through cartilage and connected with its other half, fusing shut.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Another later edition but not completely out of the blue. There was a branding chapter where Ace received a pirate mark but that didn't fit with Flint's Modem Operandum, so it was nixed. However, Desoro ended up being the type of place where they would have needed some kind of mark, so the earring became the compromise.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	4. Captain's Orders

**TRIGGER WARNING**: The following chapter contains a sexual assault event. While the assault is stopped, some readers may find the lead up disturbing or triggering. Reader Discretion is advised.

Chapter 4: Captain's Orders

Three days after Ace was taken aboard the Maiden's Sorrow, the barque pulled into port. This would have been the ideal time for Ace to jump off, but the old captain was no fool. The man placed shackles on Ace's legs once the island was in sight.

"Just so ye dinnae go getting any stupid ideas, lad." Flint grinned after he ordered his men to restrain the youngster as Ace stared at the captain in horror. "This port, especially, is not one to get lost in."

The big man, Otis, was delighted with that order and grinned as he reached for Ace. Ace tried to escape his giant grasp, but he was driven back by mocking crewmen and Otis placed a meaty hand on Ace's shoulder, shoving him down. One meaty hand was all that was needed to pin Ace to the deck on his stomach. Two others approached with the shackles to be placed on his ankles, but Ace was stubborn, his pride refused to let Flint and his men have it easy.

He was pinned, unable to get up much less run, however, his legs were free. He kicked like a child throwing a tantrum. It was stupid. The kicking prevented the crew from shackling his legs for all of ten seconds, then the vice-captain, Quillan, came over and pantsed him. With his black shorts now down around his ankles, kicking became impossible, or at least ineffective. Worse, he had never before worn underwear and immediately regretted it.

"Oh, what a cute little ass!" said one particularly nasty looking man with a scarred face and only half a head of blonde hair he'd grown long and tossed to the side.

Ace froze at those terrible words, remembering some of the things he had witnessed in the backwoods of Goa and Dan Dan's less than reassuring statement about being "lady fair" to a ship full of lonely sailors. Ace stared at the man, were they really going to treat him like that? The nasty fellow leered at him and his eyes held a terrible light. In that moment the shackles snapped onto Ace's ankles, but Otis didn't let go. Ace was still pinned.

"Now let's see if this ass is as deliciously firm as it looks," said the man as he stepped forward, his hand reaching toward Ace's bare backside. Some of the crew snickered and jeered encouraging the daylight assault. Ace began to panic, clawing at the deck and ramming his elbow into Otis's arm, but Otis just pressed harder, grinning. Was this really going to happen to him?

WHACK!

The nasty man yelped and staggered back a few steps while blowing on and shaking his hand. Flint now stood next to Ace all amusement gone from his face, his eyes were as cold and hard as emerald as he glared at his subordinate. The tip of his cane resting against his shoulder as casually as a sword. Ace stopped to watch the unexpected scene, frustratingly relieved for the captain's reprieve.

"Hands off that ass, Sanders. I have plans for this lad that dinnae involve pleasure boy, so I dinnae need him wrecked by yer lust," said Flint in a tone chillier than his gaze. The crew fell silent. Ace felt a couple dozen angry glares burn into him and realized that trouble would only increase for him because of Flint's intervention.

"Now what is this about, lad? Sit on a blender?" asked Flint, changing the subject without warning. Ace felt the cane prod his left butt cheek and he turned red. The crew started to snicker once more. It was a scar Flint was noticing. A swirl pattern scar on his left buttocks where he had landed on glass as a young child. It was one of the most embarrassing moments in his life and he did not want to discuss it with anyone. Least of all anyone on this crew!

"Ah! Look all four cheeks have gone blazing red," said Sanders in a whiny voice. "Please, Captain, just a little fun? You can't waste a sweet ass like that."

Flint's response was to strike Otis in the face. The big man tumbled backward with a yell freeing Ace. The young man scrambled to his feet with his pants back up around his waist before he had even finished standing. An easy accomplishment when the act of standing was now a difficult task to do in haste when one's legs were shackled. The chain was only long enough to enable him to walk but not easily as his natural stride was longer than what the chain allowed.

Flint placed the tip back on the ground and stared hard at Sanders. "Ye heard me the first time, Sanders, and I willnae repeat myself. Understood?"

Sander's grumbled and pouted but nodded. The rest of the crew looked disappointed, but they dispersed without further comment. Flint turned to regard Ace then said, "I have a list of chores ye are to complete prior to our departure from port, lad. If ye can't handle them then I'll rethink my assessment of yer potential. Which could possibly mean being demoted to pleasure boy. Understood?"

Ace blanched and nodded.

After the ship tied up the entire crew left to indulge their various vices or partake of business meetings leaving Ace alone. Brand new to sailing, Ace had been tasked with cleaning the entire ship, the crew's dirty laundry and mending those same clothes if needed. Busy work that would keep him occupied until the crew wandered back aboard. Ace protested the mending chore; he had never mended anything in his life.

"Good time to work on that mending stitch then. Ye'll have the whole night to practice since I suspect the other two willnae take ye nearly so long," said Flint with a fiendish grin. The crew laughed at Ace's terrified face as they marched off the ship. Ace stared after Flint and the rest and wondered if he was being set up to fail as he started to mop.

An hour later, Ace had observed enough of the town's dockside activities to realize it was better that he had been prevented from jumping. From what he could see from the deck, it was a lively but an especially seedy place. The one and only entrance to the bay was well armed and lined with various pirate flags. Their boldness spoke volumes of the place; a pirate town that the Marines never approached. How ironic it was that a pirate town had better defenses to keep out Marines than the many towns the Marines guarded against pirates. Getting in and out was tightly controlled and the only movements he could see were pirate ships. And these pirates appeared to be the worst sort. Some were offloading or boarding captives, slaves Ace realized with a shudder.

Slavery appeared to be big business at this port despite the World Government ban. Flint's cryptic words made more sense, now. This port probably sold anyone that wasn't owned by someone already. A free body was money to be had. If Ace had jumped here, he would have ended up in the slave yard. There was no benign ship to stowaway on nor one to steal and the entrance was guarded. Even if did manage to steal a small boat the guards at the entrance would not allow a small craft to leave. This was a port that catered to large ships, small boats were suspicious whether they were entering or leaving. He would have no chance to escape the port and capture would have been inevitable.

The crews, Ace observed, were openly displaying tattoos that matched their ship's flags; pirate marks. They revealed whose group these men belonged to. Ace had seen a few in the past and thought it was an expression of pride and dedication to their captain and ship. In this environment, he began to wonder if they weren't more akin to slave marks. The captains were declaring to the world that they owned these men and no one else was allowed to touch them. The workers on the shore sported a type of mark as well, though, they were not the same distinctive marks of pirates. An owner's mark, then. Were these workers all slaves, as well? Ace's ear throbbed and he touched the metal stud that now adorned his ear and shuddered.

When the men had gone ashore, they had all adorned their pirate loops. The loops had varied in style and size, but they all possessed the sword-in-the-skull mark of the Headhunter Pirates. Flint hadn't had any extra to be given to Ace, so Ace's stud remained empty. Probably just as well since it was still healing from the burning it received when Flint put it on him.

Piracy had always come across as an expression of freedom and defiance to him. Yet here, a port dedicated to pirates, freedom was the one thing missing. Citizens of Goa had known more freedom than the people here did. He was seeing the darkest side of piracy, the side common citizens associated with the black flag and the side the Marines battled to wipe out. In that moment, Ace began to wonder if his grandfather wasn't wrong to want him to turn his combat talents toward protecting people and fighting for the Marines instead of against them as a pirate. But with the infamous Gold Roger as his father would he ever be trusted or accepted by them?

Ace sighed then shook himself. Only three days onboard and he was already feeling hopeless, regretting his decision to leave home. How could he surrender over a little set back like this? Was his resolve so weak that he would even consider becoming a Marine because of a few bad eggs? He had known most pirates were awful people. He didn't have to be that kind of pirate. He was out here for the freedom and the adventure. Surely, he wasn't ready to throw away his dream over something like this. Sure, this wasn't an ideal crew to be stuck with but there would be other opportunities to escape, if he was smart about it. There couldn't be that many ports the Maiden berthed at that were the same type of awful as this. Besides, he might actually learn something while here that would ensure this didn't happen again.

Ace grimaced at his own optimism. It came across as little too… Luffy like, touching on denial of the grim reality of his situation. But it was either that or he was going to crack. Luffy had a cavalier manner toward life as if everything was great, accepting if it wasn't with a shrug, and laughing at his good fortune when it somehow worked out. Which usually worked out because Ace came flying in to save him from whatever trouble he gotten himself into. Luffy had gotten better at fighting and defending himself, so Goa wasn't really a concern anymore. Ace just hoped Luffy would be all right when he finally headed out to sea. His little brother was even less prepared than he was. Three years until that happened so he shouldn't worry about it.

Right now, Ace needed to focus all his worry on himself. He was a captive of the Headhunter Pirates. Ace took a deep breath to steady himself. It had only been three days since he was picked up. It was way too soon to be getting pessimistic anyway. A little Luffy optimism was just a slap in the face to remind himself not to surrender. He just needed to bide his time and keep his eyes open for opportunities.

With that thought in mind, Ace went back to mopping the deck. First things first, he needed to make sure Flint didn't feel he was a disappointment. From the way he acted earlier, the captain was looking out for him for some reason. As long as he did nothing to cause Flint to change his mind, Ace should be relatively safe. Or at least protected from the worst behaviors of the crew.

"Ace…" sang a voice from behind him. Ace whirled and brought his mop up like he would his pipe from childhood. Sanders leered at him from by the gangway. Two of the crew stood on either side, his toadies, Ace guessed. Ace glared even as cold fear ran through him. He knew what the man was here for, back now when he had the whole night to goof off in town.

Sanders was here to finish what he started.

"Didn't the captain tell you to keep your hands off?" snarled Ace as he adjusted his stance. The toadies began to circle around him as Sanders strode forward.

"What the captain doesn't know won't hurt," replied Sanders. "And you aren't going to tell him, are you? Your no tattle-telling cry-baby like Jason."

"I might," said Ace as he flicked his gaze at the circling threats. "Just to see the blood if nothing more." A bluff. With this crew, he feared being taken for being weak and there was no telling how Flint would react to such a report. He might take Sanders to task for disobeying him, but he might also lose respect for Ace for letting it happen. Ace needed to at least bring the hurt to Sanders. Flint needed to be able to tell without Ace saying anything. And, besides, Ace didn't want anything to happen. He was not turning his ass up to anyone. If Sanders wanted to rape Ace, he was going to have to work for it, preferably with Sanders ending up black and blue all over and a broken dick for his troubles.

"Yeah, right," said Sanders with a mock laugh. "You ain't no Headhunter. It's obvious you're soft and blood will just make you squeal like a sweet maiden."

Ace snarled in a low voice, "You don't know anything about me."

Sanders charged forward without another word along with his two cronies. He jumped back when Ace jabbed the mop forward. One toady came in and Ace swung the mop and smashed the wet yarn of the head into the man's face. The second reached and Ace jammed the staff end into the other's gut. Sanders raced in again and Ace did a small hop and drove a heel into his knee. But mops were not pipes and these were not pirate flunkies with lunch-money bounties. The two others were back in sooner than Ace anticipated.

One grabbed Ace from behind. Ace threw him over his shoulder into the second. Sanders landed a punch and Ace saw stars. That momentary daze decided everything. Sanders drove Ace to the ground and the other two jumped in seizing his arms. Ace kicked as best he could with shackled feet, but Sanders grabbed his ankle and forced him to turn over. He then jabbed two daggers into the chain links forcing his legs apart and immobilizing them. The other two drove their elbows into his shoulder blades and Ace couldn't move.

Sanders laughed. "Good fight, too bad street fighting is nothing to a veteran pirate." He yanked on Ace's pants. Ace gritted his teeth and struggled to move his feet in attempt to dislodge the daggers, but to no avail. Sanders knew what he was doing.

Ace felt a hand squeeze his buttocks. It hurt. He was still sore from the beating he had taken soon after his arrival. Ace swallowed his cry. "That is quite firm. A well-toned ass is the best to bang. Trust me, Ace. This is going to feel so good you'll be begging for more."

"Just remember we get out turn too, Sanders!" said one of the men pinning Ace.

"Absolutely," replied Sanders with a vicious laugh and he slapped Ace's butt. "There is definitely plenty here to share."

Ace closed his eyes and ground his teeth, wanting his mind to go anywhere else, to lose awareness of the present. He didn't want to feel this; he didn't want to remember this!

Sanders slapped him again. "Does this feel good, Ace?" Slap! "Tell me it feels wonderful!" All three men laughed as Ace kept his face against the deck to hide the humiliation he felt. He heard Sanders unbuckle his belt and he braced himself for the invasion.

Then something hot, sticky and wet splashed against his naked flesh. The two on his shoulders yelled and began to rise releasing their hold on their captive. Ace turned his face to look as he pushed himself up just in time to see their severed heads fall to the deck, their blood spraying him.

Ace stared in horror at the still twitching bodies and rocking heads for a moment. Then he looked up at their killer. Captain Flint stood over him with his cutlass in his hand dripping blood. The older man looked down on Ace with cold eyes as he wiped the blade clean on Sander's shirt before putting it away. He then picked up the mop bucket Ace had been using and dumped the contest all over the young man. Most of the blood rinsed off except where it had stained his clothes. Flint dropped the bucket and reached down to collect the severed heads. Sander's frozen expression was caught in a leer, he had never realized death was coming, the other two were sheer terror.

"Get back to work and clean this mess up," said Flint as he walked away with the heads. "Take the bodies to the furnace and place them inside. We'll light it tomorrow after we pull out of port. Then get back up here and redo the whole deck. I dinnae want a drop of blood remaining come sunup tomorrow. Ye hear, lad?"

Ace stared mouth agape even as he pulled his pants back on. The daggers that had pinned his feet were gone. Flint had already knocked them away.

Flint stopped and turned to regard Ace. "Did ye hear me, lad?"

"You killed them," whispered Ace. He had bluffed minutes earlier that he would tell just to see the blood, but Sanders had had him pegged. Ace wasn't the type who want to see this. A fight was one thing where sometimes people died, but this… this was just murder.

"Aye, I did. I gave them a direct order not five hours ago and they couldn't abide it. And over a need that any one beri whore could have satisfied. I willnae stand for insubordination on my ship."

"But you killed them, just like that," said Ace.

Flint raised an eyebrow. "Ye have a problem with that? Sanders and his stooges were planning to spend the whole night working ye over. Were ye actually looking forward to it?"

"No!" said Ace in haste as he stood up. "But they were your comrades."

"Ace, I dinnae sail with friends. I sail with subordinates. We have the mutual goal of wanting to own all that is in this world with the understanding that people will die along the way. I know there are some ships that thrive on camaraderie, but this int one of them. This is a boat full of murderers and scumbags. If I dinnae enforce my orders with iron fists, wicked whips and cold steel, I'll be murdered in my sleep. I maintain order on my ship by being the worst of the bloodthirsty bastards onboard."

Ace didn't know what to say to this. He had never encountered a pirate crew that didn't at least care about each other even if they didn't give a shit about the rest of the world. Albeit his encounters with pirate crews were small in number.

The point of the cane appeared before Ace's face and he went rigid as Flint continued to speak. "Ye dinnae know anything about the crew on this ship, anyway. For all ye know this was the last in a long list of insubordination and near mutinous behavior. That it was only a matter of time before I executed him for his choices. Ye have to know yer crew, Ace, or ye're going to be a very short-lived Captain."

Flint set down his cane. "Building a crew from scratch is the hardest thing a captain can do, especially if he doesn't know where to find the talent he needs. Ye, fresh to sea with no connections anywhere, weren't likely to get yerself a crew or a ship. A wiser move is to apprentice yerself to an established crew and learn all the best recruitment spots. Some men, though, dinnae like to work for their crews or dinnae have the charisma needed to draw men to them. So, they join a crew with the intent of stealing it from the captain.

"Inexperienced captains are the most vulnerable to these types of mutinies. All the thief has to do is talk the others into seeing their captain's flaws and inexperience; about how it puts them at risk. A captain who can't succeed in his endeavors, makes poor choices or can't protect his crew will be overthrown by a mutinous usurper and his unhappy comrades. Thief then gets an instant crew without having to travel around for the various members. And, because he 'saved' them from the idiot/cruel/tyrannical captain, they give him their loyalty. Instant charisma of gratitude. If ye aren't willing to make the hard choices when ye find such thief in yer midst, ye will lose everything."

Flint turned and walked away while Ace stared after him. That had seemed an unnecessarily long explanation. As the captain, Flint could have just ordered Ace to get to work and smacked him for pointing out the obvious. Instead he had explained himself and even went a step further to describe a situation he might experience as captain. It was almost as if Flint did expect him to become a captain someday and was giving him a lesson.

Ace shook himself and looked down at Sanders and his dead cronies. He swallowed his bile, his Luffy optimism diminishing to the mere hope that he would live long enough to escape this crew. Whatever favor he seemed to currently have with Flint was not something he should rely on for his wellbeing. He then reached down and began the grim task of dragging the bodies to the furnace below.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Flint watched as Ace got to work. The young man was an idealist. Not a bad thing but those ideals needed to be tempered with realism. He was going to die young if he didn't let go of some of his childish fantasies and take the world more seriously. At the same time, he wasn't overly naïve like some of the brash young fools he had encountered. Life had already removed much of the rose tinting from the glasses. Now Flint just needed to remove what was left.

Flint still couldn't believe he had encountered Roger's son after all these years, and he was glad to see he would be well worth the trouble to whip into shape. Into a pirate worthy of the crown his father had worn without becoming a monster. The new king needed to be a better man than the old and Ace might just become that man.

In any case, the mantel of Pirate King was not something a monster like Flint should ever be acknowledged to have.

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This was one of the original flash backs. It had to be restructured to accommodate later information and emphasizing Ace's ignorant point-of-view.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	5. Silver

Chapter 5: Silver

Ace slid the peeler through the skin of the potato as he pouted. The peeler wasn't just a plain knife but a device of simple design for peeling potatoes and fruits while minimizing the risk to human hands… as well as minimizing the risk that certain brash young cabin boys with more guts than brains would try to use it on other crew members. Or at least reduce the harm they could cause with it. Which was just as well as Ace was having trouble seeing what he was doing with one eye swollen shut.

His lip stung where it was cut, and his nose throbbed. Quarken hadn't been gentle about pushing the bones back into place and had grumbled the whole time about fool boys and their hormonal pride. Ace's battered knuckles were bandaged only so he wouldn't bleed on the food he was preparing. He had half a mind to sabotage the meal, then he could slip off the boat while everyone was retching.

Silver, the ship's cook, snickered at Ace's pathetic sulky self. "Just had to pick a fight with Oscar, didnae ye, lad." Silver spoke with the same pronounced accent as Flint and Quillan. He was also one of the long timers on the ship.

The ship's crew divided itself into two groups: those that could measure their service in years and those who could measure their service in months. The latter group were all grunts; killers and laborers and not men given any amount of authority over anyone else. Turnover in that group was high. The former group were the officers. They held authority and privilege and helped maintained the status quo of the ship. Which, in Ace's opinion, made them worse than the grunts. Silver was one of the former.

"He had it coming," snarled Ace.

"And yet ye got most of it instead," chuckled Silver as he tasted the soup. "First ye get Sanders and his posse killed then ye start fights over the stupidest things. Not the way to win friends on this ship."

"Why would I want to win friends on this ship? Especially on this ship?! And I did not get Sanders killed! Flint just showed up without warning. Besides how was I supposed to avoid that?! Turn up my ass and say, 'Take me, I'm yours'?!"

Silver roared with laughter at Ace's words while the young man glared before replying, "Well ye shouldn't have shook yer naked ass at him in the first place. Ye were teasing him."

"I did not shake my ass at him! Quillan pantsed me!"

"Ye shouldn't have thrown a tantrum over the shackles. Captain gave an order and really it was for yer own good anyway. Hot-headed idiot that ye are, ye would have tried to run and would have wound up on the slaver's block by dawn. Ye could have just accepted it and strapped them on yerself, instead ye acted like the biggest crybaby."

Ace sputtered incoherently. Crybaby? Crybaby?! He was not a crybaby! He hadn't shed a single tear or hollered through the whole ordeal. He just refused to surrender! He threw the peeler at Silver's head. Silver dodged and the peeler impaled the beam and stayed there, narrowly missing a large gray spider that squeaked and scuttled further up the wall. Silver raised an eyebrow, amused rather than alarmed as he regarded Ace.

"Leave the spider out of yer tantrum throwing, lad. Captain is a bit found of her and willnae take it well if any harm comes to her," said Silver as he pulled the peeler from the wall.

"Why? Is it his girlfriend?" said Ace in a mocking tone.

Silver laughed. "As if the captain had any interest in anything female. But more importantly." Silver's tone turned serious and he shook the peeler in Ace's direction. "Dinnae go throwing my tools around, I'd be a might upset if ye damaged them. Makes it hard to cook properly when ye dinnae have the proper tools to prepare the meal. If I dinnae have the proper tools to prepare the meal the crew will not get fed and that makes for an irate crew."

"Then the captain starts to wonder if he should string ye up by yer ankles and let the cook strap ye 'til ye beg forgiveness."

Ace jumped to his feet and spun. Flint stood behind him somehow having snuck up on him. Silver grinned from ear to ear, he must have seen Flint walking up.

"What makes you think I'll apologize for anything?" snapped Ace, still boiling from the crybaby comment.

"I will admit that breaking ye is not what I desire. Disciplining ye into a fine pirate that will eventually be an asset to my crew and not another burden, yes, but not breaking ye. So, I guess it would not do to test yer resolve, but I will tell ye this, lad. Ye need to pick yer battles with more care. Choosing to die on such a puny hill will leave ye with nothing when the real fight on the mountain begins. Spend all yer will power refusing to apologize for throwing tools at my cook's head then ye will never have the will power to leave this ship. Ye need to keep yer will intact for more worthwhile fights."

If Ace's head had been cooler, he might have appreciated that advise. Instead he was too blind with pride induced rage to even realize he was behaving poorly toward the one person he should really not be getting on the bad side of.

"If I cave to your demands now then why would I fight again later, I'll have already surrendered my pride," said Ace.

"Aw, the curse of youth. Ye think every little disagreement is a battle to protect yer pride. Ye cannot win on everything, lad. Sometimes ye need to retreat to advance. One lost battle is not a lost war. There are even times when losing a battle can win ye the war. If ye spend all yer energy fighting on unfavorable ground, ye'll have nothing when ye need to hold the most."

Ace growled, refusing to listen.

Flint sighed. "This is a very important lesson, Ace. Ye should really listen when yer elders are trying to impart kernels of wisdom that may one day save yer life."

Ace crossed his arms, every fiber of his being radiating "I will not budge!" The swollen eye and busted nose just made him look comical rather than serious.

"Ye must have a death wish," said Silver his expression unreadable.

"Nah, he's just a masochist," said Flint. He then reached up and pulled on a rope that hung from the ceiling. Ace stared at Flint in confusion for a moment, wondering what he was attempting to do, then his feet went out from under him. The shackles he had been wearing as punishment for starting the fight with Oscar, had already been hooked by the other end. Flint had done it before he announced himself. Flint then tied the end he held to the table.

Tables on ships were bolted to the floor to prevent them from moving around in foul seas. It made for a very secure anchor when hanging weighty items like foul-tempered youths whose asses were in dire need of tenderizing.

"What are you doing?!" cried Ace as he began to swing, his head only a meter above the floorboards. He waved his arms around and bent forward to see Flint better.

"Driving home a lesson," replied Flint as he turned to face Ace. He brought his cane up and tapped Ace's butt. "Seems I judged the length of the rope accurately."

Ace squirmed and reached upward, if he could just reach the rope, he could unhook himself. Flint jabbed him in the ribs and Ace flopped back down when his stomach muscles spasmed from the blow, swinging back from the movement.

"Now Ace," continued Flint, "before we begin the absorption of the lesson, do ye have something to say to Silver?"

"Hell no!" screamed Ace while holding his side where Flint had jabbed him. He attempted to reach up again only to be jabbed a second time with the same result.

"What a rude young man ye are, lad," said Flint with a sad shake of his head. He didn't look all that sad to Ace. "It's only proper and good manners to apologize when yer throw things at people. This is an especially puny hill ye are choosing to die on. So, let's see if I can't convince ye of the benefit of knowing when to withdraw."

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Ace eventually apologized, it happened sooner than Flint had expected. The lad was stubborn but, apparently, could be rational when faced with reality. Then again, maybe it had something to do with Silver's quip about Ace throwing another tantrum. Either way, Ace swallowed his pride and apologized to Silver, so Flint let him down, but he didn't let it end there.

As Ace stood trying and failing to keep his hands off his sore backside, Flint grabbed his hair and hissed, "Good of ye to see the light, lad, but remember this! The next time ye cause Silver grief I'll have ye brought out to main mast for the bosun's attention."

Ace looked a little confused. Aside from the first day, when the entire crew had been flogged for failing to change out the flags, Ace hadn't seen Jaeger give anyone his undivided attention that way. He hadn't seen men dragged to the main mast for personal disciplining. He probably had never seen anyone properly flogged before in his life.

No, Ace didn't know what Flint had just threatened. He would learn soon enough, though, through another's foolery or his own. Silver grinned in that way that promised Ace a lot of trouble, so Flint amended his statement.

"Of course, that is just the major griefs like tonight. Give Silver little headaches like not doing what ye're told or getting mouthy and he will have the freedom to give those pale baby cheeks of yers a nice strapping to smarten ye up. In fact, let's make that the standard for whenever ye are under the authority of one my officers. Understood, lad?"

Ace understood that and he looked both furious and terrified. Silver's grin was reduced to a crooked smile. He liked the idea of being able to punish Ace himself but would have preferred to see the young man dance before the bosun's whip. Flint contained his own smirk. He knew Silver would now use any excuse to bend Ace over, but this would just make the young man stronger.

After all, the best swords were forged in flames and with much hammering.

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This was one of the original flash back with Flint's view point as an expansion.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	6. New Skills

Chapter 6: New Skills

Ace checked a cannon for cracks as part of his duties aboard the Maiden's Sorrow. He wasn't planning on doing anything to it. There would be nothing to be gained in sabotaging a cannon. Austin, who generally handled the artillery upkeep on the ship, wasn't as sure of that. He was standing across from Ace, monitoring the young man's activity, ready to spring if Ace did anything suspicious.

The cannon had already been inspected by Austin, but he was testing Ace's ability to scan for cracks and repair what was minor. Everyone in the crew had protested when Flint had assigned cannon inspection to Ace. They were convinced their reluctant cabin boy would do anything to screw them over.

"The lad is more cunning than that," said Flint. "Austin, ye're in charge of training him. Box his ears if he doesn't pay attention."

Austin went from pale terror at the thought of his precious charges, the cannons not the crew, being put in the hands of a tantrum throwing brat to grinning eagerness in the space of a breath. "Yes, Captain! I'll get that boy up to speed on cannon maintenance," he said. Flint nodded, also grinning.

Ace's expression went from annoyed to horror. He remembered that Flint was going to let his officers have some leeway in handling him. However, that gleeful expression… He was certain Austin would take full advantage of this permission to torment Ace.

He didn't disappoint.

While Austin had too much pride in his work, and too much fear of his captain, to give Ace the wrong information about cannon inspection so he could knock the young man senseless later, he did take a perfectionist attitude and gave Ace a steep learning curve. Every missed crack or bad repair wound up with Ace receiving a flurry of cuffs and yanked ears with Austin hollering about his incompetence.

Ace's ears were a fiery red and throbbed with every pulse, but he ignored it and focused on his task. There was no way to improve his position with defiance and the sooner he completed his task to Austin's reluctant satisfaction, the sooner he would be free of the master gunner's discipline.

This was the last of the ship's cannons. If he could just complete his task without errors…

He found a hairline crack in the exterior. "There's a crack here," said Ace, lightly tapping the offending flaw. "It's small and shallow, we can repair it without harming the cannon's ability to shoot or weakening the barrel." He then waited for the master gunner's assessment of his diagnosis.

When Austin said nothing, a sign that Ace had gotten it right, he took up his tools and got to work closing the gap. Ace was a bit awe struck by the seashell that spouted fire that they used for soldering metal, but Austin wouldn't tell him where it came from. Considering the crew's high turnover, Ace doubted Austin knew. Even an officer can get replaced and the Headhunters had been on the sea longer than Austin's age suggested he had been on the ship.

"So, he passed?" asked Flint, startling Ace yet again. How does a man with a cane and a bum leg sneak up on people?

"He managed the last three without error, but I still wouldn't trust him," replied Austin reluctantly.

"Excellent, he can do this after every battle or every fortnight whichever occurs first," said Flint, ignoring the assessment. The master gunner said nothing to correct the record. No one back talked Flint once he made a decision. He then turned toward Ace and snickered at the young man's flaming ears. "After all, I trust ye, Austin, to be an excellent teacher," Flint added as he reached forward and stroked Ace's abused right ear.

Ace jerked his head away and Flint grabbed the young man's jaw forcing him back in place. "I recall mentioning mending back in Desoro when I left ye onboard, but things got messy because of those fools and ye never got to it."

Ace blanched; he had been assigned mending then and he hadn't done it because he had been cleaning the deck of blood and disposing of bodies. As it was, he barely got the laundry done, there had been a lot of it and it had reeked! And the stains…

"Now I am reasonable, and it did slip my mind because Jason took care of it shortly thereafter. Can't be mad at him. That's his usual chore and he is a very competent seamstress." Jason was the other cabin boy and was about the same age as Ace if not a little older. He was timid and did anything to keep from drawing the attention of the other crew members. Jason had probably done the sewing because he forgot Ace was supposed to do it and didn't want everyone mad at him. Ace wondered how Jason ended up on this hell boat.

"No big deal, I widnae have held it against ye since ye did manage to get the deck scrubbed clean like I asked and still finished the laundry." Ace held his breath; he could hear the "but" coming. He was still too new to know what that impending "but" would mean, though.

"But," (And there it was,) "I did want ye to do mending then so I will have yer next task be sewing. As I said before, Jason is an excellent seamstress so he will show ye how to do a proper stitch. Afterwards I expect ye to take the chore from him half the time."

Ace felt himself pale. Protesting was pointless, it hadn't worked last time. At least this time someone would be teaching him how to do it. However, if today was any indication of how things worked, he was going to get only one day to master a new skill after that he was going to be expected to do the task without mistake.

Ace realized he was going to have practice on his own time if he wanted to avoid trouble with the crew. Looking at Flint's knowing smirk, that was exactly what the captain was expecting of him.

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This chapter was originally much later in the story and had a very different ending. The result of the editing caused this to be much shorter than I realized until I began uploading chapters and got the word count.

Originally, this ended with Flint burning Ace after Ace got particularly foul mouthed with him. The random act of violence against Ace, though, seemed a bit much and removed it entirely. Instead when Ace's hand is burnt later in the story it is for entirely different reasons.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	7. Jason

Chapter 7: Jason

Ace hissed as the needle penetrated the skin of his index finger for what seemed like the thousandth time. His fingers were already wrapped from previous stabbings and a faint tint of red stained the cloth in various places. The newest wound could hardly be felt through the throbbing of the others, but the number of red stains increased. How many more holes could his fingers receive before they ceased functioning?

"You're really not good at this, are you?" said Jason who sat next to Ace with his chin resting on his fist. Ace said nothing, focusing on his work. The lanky youth was under strict orders to teach Ace how to mend and not do it for him. So, he had been sitting their showing Ace what he could and observing the rest of the time.

It had taken an hour for Ace to figure out how to thread a needle, another two hours to be able to do it ninety percent of the time. Then Jason began showing him the stitch work needed to repair clothing and the self-mutilations began.

Ace bit his lip trying to tie the tiny knot so his stitch would remain in place. He had done these same pants five times already with the stitch coming out when their integrity was checked. He now had a lot of appreciation for Makino, and women everywhere, that did this work on a daily basis. How did they make it look so effortless?

Ace finished the knot and Jason checked his work. This time the stitch held, and Ace let out a breath in relief.

"About time," said Jason. Ace glared but again said nothing. Timid as Jason seemed, there was no telling what authority would turn him into. While Ace was certain he could best the young man in a straight fight, the weight of Flint's authority was behind Jason. Jason could do whatever he thought best to bring Ace to heel if Ace acted out.

"And lucky for you," continued Jason, ignoring Ace's glare, "that was the last of the repairs. But since practice makes perfect. I have a feeling you'll be mending for a while until you can do this in your sleep."

Ace hissed again and stuck the needle in its cushion. He was not looking forward to that. A thought struck Ace and he looked at Jason. Jason hadn't touched him despite having the authority to do so. Ace had just assumed the threat and did his best to comply, but he had made several mistakes and Jason had just made him do it over again without so much as slapping him.

Jason seemed out of place on the crew. Everyone else was cocky, confident and unrepentant killers. Jason jumped at his own shadow. How had he ended up on the ship? Was he like him, just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"Jason," said Ace, decided that this was good time to ask since the two were alone. "How long have you been on this ship?"

Jason finished folding the mended pants and set them to the side before responding. "Just a few months before you."

Ace looked around to make certain there were no others nearby. He lowered his voice and said, "Maybe if we work together, we could-"

"Ace, stop," said Jason before Ace could complete his proposal. "I get it. I don't look like I belong so you thought I might want to escape like you. However, I do belong here. Someone like me doesn't deserve to be anywhere else."

Ace stared at him in confusion, not understanding.

Jason sighed and he gave the other a crooked but wistful smile. "I am the son of a merchant. A very prosperous merchant. I wasn't nobility but I want for nothing. I even sometimes accompanied my father on his trade missions. I always thought I would follow him into the business, so I studied sailing, trading, money, anything that might make me a better trader."

Ace frowned, still not following. Jason came from a privileged home, one of more honest earnings than aristocracy, however it didn't explain why Jason felt he belonged on this ship. If anything, it meant the exact opposite. Ace belonged more than Jason did.

"I had a friend once. A best friend that I trusted more than anything. He had a mischievous side and was always finding ways to get us into trouble. However, he always knew how to make me smile even when I despaired. I also had a girl. She was to be my wife once we were of age. That was what we promised each other, anyway. Fortunately, she was of good breeding and I was the son of a successful merchant. Our parents approved. Everything seemed wonderful."

Ace waited for the rest. It was obvious something had gone wrong, but Ace still couldn't fathom how a boy who had had everything a man could want would end up on this ship. Ace felt the pains of jealousy as well as sympathy. He had a friend once. They caused trouble and laughed through the hard times. Sabo, his partner in crime, the sharer of his dream, his other half. Then Ace had let him go when he realized he was noble, and his friend's father came for him, with little fuss.

He had thought his friend had everything. A good home, good food, good clothes, a future and parents. Things Ace had wanted. Sabo had told him that it wasn't good. Had explained that he wasn't free but Ace just couldn't hear him then. Then that terrible, terrible day when he was told Sabo was dead. Sabo had tried to run away to sea at the worst possible time and he had died for it. Killed by the world's indifference. He hadn't heard Sabo when he could have saved him. Was he not hearing Jason now? He waited.

Jason had taken a moment to compose himself as his remembrance of the past brought tears to his eyes. Ace said nothing, ignoring it. Thoughts of Sabo had nearly caused the same weakness in him.

"Then one day I found them both together, my friend and my fiancée, entangled in each other's arms. They kissed and laughed and whispered sweet nothings; so lost in each other's gaze they never saw me. Betrayed by the two I loved and trusted the most, I felt a powerful anger fill me. I struck them down where they lay and lost count of the number of times by swords fell upon their prone forms. I don't believe it was swift. I think at least one screamed and begged but I could not hear and did not stop until my rage was slackened. Their forms were barely recognizable.

"In that moment I felt a terrible grief well up within me as well as desperate fear. I threw off my blood splattered coat and abandoned by tainted swords and fled. I ran through the streets toward the harbor not thinking of the mess I looked. I ran to the first ship I saw that was set to sail and asked to join. The captain gazed at me then smirked and waved me on. And thus, I am here. A double murderer in exile on a ship of killers, my penance for my folly, a life sentence on a cursed vessel."

Jason fell silent, his tale done, and Ace stared at him, his insides now twisted and cold. Jason had murdered his best friend and the woman he loved in a fit of rage after finding them together. Ace could not fathom it, the anger, yes, but not the instinct to grab his sword and hack the culprits where they lay. Ace possessed so few things and friends were treasures greater than gold. However, he had never loved any woman so could not speak to his feelings should she betray his love. If he had his way, he never would. His dirty blood should never survive him, that would just be perpetuating the cursed life it brought him to another innocent party. Still, with so few people he could call friend, could he really kill them so easily even if they betrayed him in this manner? If Sabo were to lie with a woman he loved, would he kill them both? Was this the curse of privilege? To feel entitled to destroy what it held most dear should it become a soul shattering hurt? Or was this simply this man's failing?

Jason smiled sadly at Ace. "Even with your origin, you never killed before, got in fights but never ended any lives. You're too innocent for this ship. It's going to destroy you."

Jason then turned and walked away leaving Ace alone. Ace felt fear, not for his life but for his soul. He understood Jason's statement and realized its terrible truth. This ship would destroy his heart, his soul, everything that made Ace Ace!

_"Ye cannot win on everything, lad. Sometimes ye need to retreat to advance. One lost battle is not a lost war. There are even times when losing a battle can win ye the war. If ye spend all yer energy fighting on unfavorable ground, ye'll have nothing when ye need to hold the most."_

Flint's words from a few days earlier echoed in his mind. He would now listen to those wise words. He needed to protect what mattered most to him and to hell with the rest!

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This chapter was written, axed then rewritten from scratch. The original chapter came with the idea that Jason was timid and cowardly, kind of like Coby. However, the progression of the story changed him to remaining timid but still capable.

Jason actually gets slack from the crew because he came to the ship a killer and a knowledgeable sailor, so the crew sees him as one of them. Unlike Ace. However, Jason is seen as a grunt-to-be apprentice. While his history should have had him being similar to Quillan, he is too timid to be much of a merchant. Effectively, Flint dismissed him of being much use right now because of Jason's grey outlook on life. Since Jason is well educated, there isn't much for Flint to do. Jason's attitude is the only thing keeping Flint from giving him any more attention. This is the reason Flint said in the first chapter it is easier to tame a fire than stoke one where none exists. He was referring to Jason.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	8. Cannon Kickback

Chapter 8: Cannon Kickback

Austin looked over the knot Ace had used to secure the cannon in place. While the ropes that held the cannons to the deck needed to be loose enough to allow for firing and reloading they also needed to keep the cannons in their tracks and prevent them from rolling into their gunners or, worse, tumbling across the entire deck and ramming other cannons and their handlers. That was worse because uninvolved crew didn't deserve to be injured by another's incompetence, severe, possibly fatal, consequences followed.

Ace had spent the last two days practicing the knots he would need to know for sailing and being quizzed on which knot was needed under which circumstance. His hands were raw from the rough practice ropes and his back throbbed from all the blows he received when he screwed up. Jaeger, the bosun, had been appalled when he realized Ace didn't know a single proper knot and Flint had agreed that this basic knowledge was necessary before he could continue as a sailor aboard their ship, hence the intense training he had undergone.

Now convinced Ace was dangerously ignorant when it came to sailing, they decided these first few weeks would be training for the new recruit. Since everyone else knew what they were doing, no one had any patience for a young man who went to sea without learning the basics of sailing. Hell, Ace's knowledge of sailor lingo was pathetic, and everyone was furious they had to even teach him that. If Ace had to be shown something more than once the officer would beat him while mocking him for thinking such a hopeless idiot as he could ever become captain.

Ace swallowed his anger at their insults and gave them his full attention, struggling to memorize the demonstrations and explanations. At least the officers explained things and demonstrated slowly so he could see, it seemed they wanted to give him a chance to succeed. Or maybe Flint had made it clear his failure would be held against them. Methods for success would not be questioned. The later seemed more likely.

Today was how to load and shoot a cannon. First, he had to apply his knot tying knowledge to make certain the cannon was secure. Since they presented a risk to more than just Ace, Austin was making certain the knot was correct and the right amount of slack was in the restraining rope. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the cannon. Ace focused on the master gunner as he demonstrated the procedure for loading, aiming, firing and reloading the large weapon. The ship was anchored near a lonely rock outcropping that rose from the sea without an island partner. The perfect thing to use for practicing one's aim.

Ace wasn't the only one. Several others were practicing their cannon firing skills as well. Not everyone came aboard knowing how to shoot a cannon accurately and Flint prized accuracy. It's what allowed the Maiden to be so dangerous when she appeared so benign. So claimed Austin since they hadn't done any piracy activities since Ace boarded. Ace believed him anyway.

Once Austin was done with his demo, Ace stepped up and went through the same procedure. He was slower than Austin, but the master gunner didn't say anything. Ace needed to show he had understood what Austin had demonstrated; speed would come later with practice.

With it loaded, he pushed it one foot forward, so the muzzle was outside the hull, lined up his shot and fired. The cannon roared, shot back the foot, causing the lines to go tight and came to a stop, wisps of smoke streaming out of it mouth. The shot didn't hit a single rock, falling well short of the target.

Austin grunted. "Keep the arc of the shot in mind, boy. You can't just point and shoot. The ball starts falling as soon as it leaves the cannon. You need to adjust for gravity and arc the shot so it can go the distance. You aim above your target. The further away it is the higher the shot will need to be. Just like throwing. Now do it again!"

Ace grimaced but Austin hadn't hit him that time. The master gunner had too much respect for the art of shooting to expect Ace to get it right away. Ace went through the procedure of loading and aiming again. Only this time, when the cannon fired, it all went very wrong. The cannon leapt back as expected but only the rope on the right side went taunt, arresting its motion. The left side, the side Ace was on, remained loose. The force of the kickback, without the support of the second rope, caused the cannon to jump it track and topple over. The iron barrel crashed down on Ace's left foot as he was knocked to the ground. There was a sickening crunch and Ace screamed. All movement on the deck ceased.

Ace tried to sit up, afraid to be seen as vulnerable by remaining prone, but the effort pulled on the injured leg. White hot lances shot up his limb causing him to fall back with another scream. His right foot was also pinned but the angle of the cannon allowed it to escape injury. Or at least it seemed that way, the injury to the left may have been masking any harm done to the right. It was impossible to tell at the moment.

"Ace! Stay down! Stay still!" barked Austin. Ace complied without a word of argument. "Boys! Get over here and get this cannon back on its track!" Five men hurried over and together they raised the cannon up, guiding it and its cradle back into place.

"What happened?" asked Flint as he slid down onto the lower deck. He glanced down at the prone Ace and then at Austin who was studying the rope that had failed. The master gunner looked thunderous but said nothing.

It was another crewman who answered, "Captain, a cannon suddenly broke loose and crushed the cabin boy."

Flint rolled his eyes but clarified, "How did it break loose? Did the rope snap?"

"No," said Austin in a quiet voice. "It was untied." He held up the line for Flint to see. "The rope's intact not broken. I checked this line myself; it was secure. It held through my demonstration and Ace's first shot. Someone must have untied it between shots."

Silence filled the hull. Sabotaging a cannon was a death sentence all on its own and Ace was Flint's favorite. Flint turned to regard the men around him, all of whom were white as ghosts.

"If it wasn't so impractical to kill all of ye, I would," said Flint in a cool tone. "I suggest the guilty party think long and hard before pulling another stunt like this. Of course, if I discover the identity of the guilty party, ye need not worry about thinking ever again. There are hundreds of ways to kill a man. I'll be reserving the worst for that person."

He turned back to Ace and Austin and said, "Austin, carry the lad to Quarken then I'll see ye in my quarters."

"Yes, sir," replied Austin in hushed voice as Flint turned and walked back to the stair leading to the main deck.

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Once Flint and Austin were alone in his cabin, Flint spoke, "What do ye make of this, Austin?" There was no accusation in his voice. Flint trusted Austin not to screw around. He also trusted Austin's expertise on cannons and guns. Austin was probably one of the few people on the ship that Flint almost trusted as a person. This was why Austin had been severing the ship as Master Gunner for ten years.

"This can't be because Ace is a spoiled, tantrum throwing, entitled brat. No one would risk being caught in a mass execution over that," stated Austin.

"Spoiled, heh!" Flint sat in his chair and removed a teakettle, cup, canteen and tea bags from his desk drawer. The teakettle and cup were a matching set, blue with gold trim in spiral branches. Something he had acquired when he was plundering South Blue three decades back. It was pretty but also functional, a rare thing in this day and age. He poured water into the teakettle and set it on his private burner to boil while he placed the bag in the cup to await the heated liquid.

Flint always made his own tea but ate the same food as the crew. Silver was a schemer who knew how to toe the line, but heaven help them, he was the only decent cook they had. Silver had made himself indispensable by learning that skill from old Chang before the man passed. As long as he never did anything outrageous, Flint couldn't get rid of him without risking a mutiny he probably couldn't recover from.

And he had lectured Ace about recognizing such thieves and removing them before they caused problems. Sigh. One had to tip their hat to Silver's long-sighted planning. He had done nothing to attract Flint's attention until after he had become indispensable. Now Flint was stuck. Flint could have liked Silver if he weren't a worse devil than Flint.

Flint didn't put it pass Silver to try to poison him in order to claim the captain's chair. By eating the same food as the crew, Flint avoided the problem because he could grab random plates and Silver couldn't predict which he would take. Silver wouldn't risk poisoning everyone just to get Flint, it wouldn't do to destroy what he desired to claim. Flint did prefer tea, unlike the rest of the crew and their need for booze. An easy mark for a poisoner. So, he always kept it and his own personal stash of water within his cabin and everyone knew that Silver was not permitted there for any reason unless Flint was present and asked for him. He still hid the water in a secret closet and the tea bags in a locked drawer when away, though. Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a mutinous schemer.

"He's spent his youth in hiding because of his father's reputation meant that every loser dog in the world would hunt him should they learn of his existence. He's just fought so long and so hard against a world that has rejected his existence he no longer knows of any other way to fight," stated Flint, his thoughts returning to the present. He wasn't arguing with his Master Gunner's assessment. He just felt that "spoiled" was the wrong word to describe someone who had a life that was the exact opposite of easy. The kettle whistled and he reduced the burner's temperature before pouring the steaming liquid into his cup.

"Doesn't make him any less a brat," muttered Austin. Flint grinned. Austin stiffened as a thought came to him. "Do you think that may have been the reason?"

Flint raised his cup and stared at it. "That would narrow down the search considerably."

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This chapter shows Ace's rather steep learning curve to becoming a fine sailor, because growing up in the backwoods of a little kingdom does not a sailor make. The drama with the cannon is short lived but the injury to his leg will haunt him through out his journey on the sea. Not necessarily this story but later.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	9. Investigation

Chapter 9: Investigation

Quarken was excellent at his job, one of the best Flint had ever encountered, but he was not delicate. Anesthesia was not cheap nor easy to procure, even for pirates. With all the injuries his men suffered through routine domestic disputes and fists fights, they went through a lot of medical supplies. Quarken, therefore, tended to rely on good old-fashioned brandy to force a subject to relax while he worked. Anesthesia may be a hard to come by medicine but mostly Quarken was just tired of stitching up crewmen that cut each other apart on a whim. If one had to feel every scalpel slice, stitch and straightened broken bone, they might think twice before engaging in such activity. There wasn't any evidence that this policy had reduced the amount of violence on the ship but at least the doctor grumbled less about the work.

For anyone that had been severely injured in other ways, tough luck. They were strong men, they could handle it, would say the doctor to protesting patients, or the pain of his non-gentle means would knock them out. If any of the crew were so bad off that they needed the type of surgery that required the stuff, they were written off as dead already and thrown overboard. Quarken had no loyalty to anyone but the captain and the captain suffering any injury would have spelled the end of the Headhunter pirates. This murderous lot would strike as soon as they sensed weakness.

That is to say, he didn't actually bother procuring any and so didn't have any to use on Ace. This meant Ace was tied down to his operating table, his good leg pulled over the side and strapped to the table leg to keep it out of the way, while he worked. The young man's crushed leg forced Quarken to slice open the calf and foot in order to locate and move all the splintered bone fragments back into their proper place.

Ace's pain tolerance was at that torturous level where it was high enough that he didn't faint, which would have been a mercy, but low enough that he could neither remain still nor quiet. The brandy did little to alleviate the young man's suffering but Quarken was used to this and ignored Ace's mewling through the gag he had tied in place just in case.

Now Ace lay on the medical ward's recovery bed semi-conscious and delirious with pain induced fever. His injured leg was elevated by a sling to allow for drainage. A belt strapped across his torso kept him from falling out of bed as he was prone to random flailing in this state.

"The one time we had a legitimate use for anesthesia…" muttered Flint as he gazed down at the young man.

Quarken shrugged. "He'll live," he said as he finished cleaning his tools. "Youth is on his side. He should be able to limp around by the end of the week, though, if ye care about the long-term, I'd restrict him to crutches and easy tasks for three."

Flint cast a side glance at the doctor. Quarken's detachment from his patients was to be expected. Bothering to voice the concept of long-term consequences for one of his patients meant he had been paying attention to the activities on the ship. The good doctor was a bit of hermit, only really acknowledging the existence of the crew just yards from him when they were injured. He wasn't interested in the politics of the ship, so Flint was surprised he had noticed the captain's interest in their cabin boy.

Flint glanced back at Ace. He could force Ace to hobble around the ship as he fulfilled his duties as soon as the lad could put weight on the foot, but his ankle would be useless by the time he was thirty. Flint had been at sea long enough to know the long-term effects of serious injuries left untreated or not treated properly. If this had been any of the grunts, Flint wouldn't have cared, but Ace wasn't a grunt. He was an apprentice and Flint had to make considerations for the long-term.

"Quarken, even though the rule is no funny business in the medical ward, someone conducted funny business on the cannons. So, if ye aren't present, make sure to lock the door and keep the lad in here until I say otherwise. Am I clear?"

Quarken snorted. "I'll lock the cabin as long as he's here, agreed, Captain. No one is going to mess with one of my patients while he is under my care. But only while he is under my care. The injury is such that bed rest is required until _I _say otherwise, but if ye want to keep him safe longer then I suggest ye tie him to yer bed. I ain't a babysitter and I will not be keeping him longer than his recovery dictates."

Flint snorted in amusement. Few members of his crew held the privilege of back-talking their captain. While Flint would not dream of annoying his doctor with his personal requests, the thought of young Ace tied to his bed was not something he should dwell on less he lose all will to resist and act upon it.

He would just have to solve his mystery in the next few days before temptation crossed his path.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Austin stormed about the deck. The cannons of the Maiden's Sorrow were his pride and joy, and someone had messed with them. Worse, the boy had been right there next to him when it happened, under his personal tutelage. Bratty as the kid was, he had been Austin's charge and Austin took even less kindly to people who messed with his charges than he did their messing with his cannons.

And the unknown fiend and messed with both at once.

Crewmen dove out of the way less they catch a blow of irritation in his passing, but Austin hardly registered their presence as he paced the deck. Crew weren't supposed to kill each other, odd enough as that seemed on such a ship as this. Only the captain had the privilege of execution. If anyone was allowed to kill on a whim there would be no crew left to sail the ship, so the rule did make sense. It didn't stop the fights but the men, most of the time, remembered to keep them non-fatal less they be executed soon after. As one of the officers onboard, it was his responsibility to ensure that rule was known and followed, and he took his duties seriously.

"Austin, you're going to pound a hole through the deck if you don't stop," cried a voice. Austin whirled, prepared to rip the impertinent man a new one then froze when he saw who it was.

The ship's Bosun, Jaeger, smiled knowingly back at Austin and not without a little bit of amusement as the master gunner lowered his fist. Jaeger was usually a hard ass. He never smiled at anyone. Only Austin got to see his softer side. The two men were from opposite ends of the world and under ordinary circumstances would never have met but they both had boarded the Maiden's Sorrow and found success despite the odds. They also found they could do more than stand one another. They were an odd pair but any man who dared mock them for their preferences didn't last long on the ship. Usually a smile and playful verbal jab could get Austin to calm down. Austin, however, was too worked up to be mollified. He huffed then turned to continuing his storming.

"You aren't going to find the scumbag if you keep pounding the deck like this. The fellow's gone to ground," said Jaeger as he strode alongside the master gunner, his long stride easily keeping pace.

Austin growled but said nothing. He knew Jaeger was right and he needed to cool down. He couldn't think straight and whatever clues that would lead him to the culprit wouldn't reveal themselves while he was in this state. It didn't make it any easier. He stopped his pacing and took a deep breath as he tried, nonetheless, to bringing his wayward temper in line. Jaeger patted him on the shoulder.

"There we go," he said. "There's no point in being a loose cannon yourself."

Austin snorted but the comment had the desired effect this time, his anger began to dissipate. "So, do you have an idea who are saboteur is? The captain and I suspect it's someone with a grudge against Gold Roger."

"Do you have an idea?" countered the bosun.

Austin shook his head. One of the downsides of being part of a crew like this was that, unless one clicked with someone on a personal level, one rarely learned anything significant about any of the others. Officers and grunts rarely interacted due to their difference in tenure. Regular crew were only around for a handful of months before dying. It just wasn't worth it for the officers to associate much with the regulars, they might get attached, and that was dangerous.

There were exceptions. Silver made it his business to get to know every man who boarded the ship. If not for the fact he did this in anticipation of overthrowing Flint, he would have been a good person to ask. Another officer who had a tendency to get friendly with the grunts was Rasputan. He wasn't much of an officer, he didn't really have an official position, but had been serving almost as long as the vice-captain. Or was it longer?

Rasputan was an oddball. He didn't have any apparent ambition, could make friends at the drop of a hat, and could get two feuding crewmen to be best of friends in less than an hour, those friendship never survived the night, but it did stop the fighting for a while. However, he held no attachment to any of those men. He'd watched them die without comment and shed not a tear nor seemed bothered in any way. He was the ideal Headhunter in that sense.

He was also their ideal source for inside information.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rasputan stared at the men for a long moment as he thought about their question. "True, that would be my first suspicion that someone was expressing a grudge against Roger on the boy. Stupid, really. Flint hates men so petty they would carry grudges against their uninvolved kin. He'll even start fights when he shouldn't, his hate is so intense. You know what I mean, Jaeger. That was how we came across the boy the first time, right?"

Austin looked confused, but Jaeger grimaced and nodded. "I was still fresh to the crew when it happened so didn't realize what a rare event that was," said Jaeger. "We left East Blue immediately afterwards and we had just arrived the month before."

"Yes, he was concerned that Goa would put two and two together since there had been wiser souls who had fled before the fighting broke out," said Rasputan with a nod. "They would have remembered the fight between a pirate and a tradesman with all the evidence of the pirate losing. Leaving his calling card was kind of stupid but why waste the massacre."

The tall man turned and winked at Austin. "If not for that we might not have come across a prize like you, Master Gunner, to the sorrow of the bosun's loins."

Jaeger frowned and casually drew his cudgel, tapping it on his shoulder. Austin half drew his gun. Empty threats, they weren't going to violate Flint's "no killing each other" rule, but should there be an accident… Rasputan waved them down with a rueful grin.

"Back on point, I do have a few suspects in mind who hold grudges against Roger but if what you want is the actual attacker…" said Rasputan.

"If you know who it is, why haven't you said anything to the captain?" demanded Austin.

"You assume I knew the whole time rather than having intercepted me on the way to the captain," replied Rasputan, serious for the first time in their conversation. The Cossack was rarely serious. He smiled and laughed as often as Jaeger did not. "I just now was able to figure out the culprit through my many conversations with the crew this past night. It takes time to put all the little pieces together. It's not like anyone says, 'I know who did it!' However, his motive is more disturbing, which took extra time to realize. It seems he was put up to it by another."

Jaeger's eyes narrowed. Conspiracies were the bane of this ship. Silver's actions and wants were open secrets so easily watched but a conspiracy of this nature could be more damning than a mutiny. Everyone on the ship existed within a state of known boundaries. A conspiracy could drive them to violate the boundaries through paranoia. It threatened the officers as well. If Flint became paranoid about his crew, he would abandon them, and that meant executing everyone and starting over. Not ideal for Flint but terrible for the rest of them. Rumors had it, that he had done it before.

"Who?"

Rasputan shook his head in frustration. "That is something you will have to ask the man yourself. Provided you can get him to talk."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miciron gibbered nonsense while Flint twisted the dagger into the man's shoulder. The man had joined at Desoro, one of two to replace Sanders and his cronies. It hadn't even been a month, but the welcome package always included the rules of the ship. And it had definitely included no sabotage and no murder on that list. The fact the man hadn't even claimed his "prank" when he first performed it was proof enough that he had known he had done wrong.

Once Miciron had accepted denial wasn't going to work he had tried to explain that what he did was a prank gone wrong. That he had just wanted to cause the bratty Ace some trouble. The type of trouble that would lead to his embracing the mast like so many of the men wanted to see. He wasn't supposed to get injured; the man swore. It was almost believable. An ill-conceived prank brought about by the crew's annoyance of Ace's attitude and his privileged station on the ship. Except sabotaging the cannons was at the top of the list of things not to do on the ship. The list was very specific because the very stupid and the very clever always found the loopholes to his rules. There was no way Miciron could talk his way out of this no matter how he presented it.

Ordinarily this is where it would have ended. Flint had his culprit and need only execute him for his crime, except Rasputan had said someone had put him up to it. Not the egging of the crew that Miciron claimed but someone specific. Someone who had probably told him he would be safe if he kept his mouth shut in the wake of the prank's outcome.

Flint wanted to know who. Silver was a good candidate, but Flint didn't believe a man so good at toeing the line would propose this. This kind of thing was all Flint would need to justify executing him. Cut throats they may be, but no one wanted to work with someone who encourages sabotage on their boat. Besides, Silver was in control in all his interactions with Ace. He had more than ample ability to satisfy his anger at the lad over any wrongdoing with a long hiding. No, sad as it was for Flint to admit, Silver was not behind this, but then who was?

Whoever it was had Miciron scared enough to not give up his name even as Flint tortured the man. The rest of the crew watched the grim business in silence, their expressions cold. What sympathy they could have offered was lost when he admitted to the deed. Now they just felt satisfaction in his suffering. No one jeered or mocked since this was an interrogation and Flint needed to hear the man's answers. If the man were to gasp out the name as he died and someone's shouting drowned out the revelation, it would not go well for the shouter.

Miciron rolled his eyes, madness clearly seizing him in his seventh hour of questioning. Flint had seen it before and knew there would be no recovery. Sometimes when driven to madness, the tortured revealed everything but Miciron was a stand-up fellow even in this state. His madness brought out only incoherent babbling instead of names. A pity, death would have come much more swiftly if he had just given Flint what he wanted. A pity as well that such a tight-lipped man would have to die.

Disgusted, Flint drove the dagger through the man's eye, ending him. There was nothing to be found here. Whoever it was that encouraged Miciron would remain in the shadows for now. At least that cowardly assailant was on notice that Flint knew he was about.

That might just be enough to prevent any further action from being taken against Ace.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rasputan sighed. It was sometimes a pain to work with a captain who didn't believe in the Arcane. He could have told Flint that Miciron was cursed to silence. It was hard enough convincing Austin and Jaeger that he had "overheard" talk from the boasting saboteur without endangering any, relatively, innocent crewmen.

What the Cossack had actually picked up was the stink of the curse on both Ace and Miciron. Rasputan recognized the cheap silence curse and guessed Miciron was the one that untied the rope. However, curses like that left a mark on the curser as well but none of the crew had that mark to his aggravation. Either someone off the ship had bought Miciron or the curser had been given Yew Bark to wash away the mark after casting. Whoever had done it was not a witch themselves or they would be easy to find.

Rasputan was the only witch on the ship and he would suffer no other. It was probably the old witch at Desoro that had sold the concoctions. She knew he was there and would have insisted on her customer's safety. He would have to have a long conversation with her about plying her trade to his crew. Even if he couldn't openly practice with a captain who didn't believe, it was still his ship. And nobody messed with his ship.

Worse still, was the death curse on Ace. Both ropes were supposed to fail, with the second delayed to worsen the accident. But the second knot had snagged instead, arresting the cradle and preventing it from doing worse than fall over. If the second had failed late the cradle would have jumped further and dumped the heavy metal cannon on top of Ace's chest, killing him.

The death curse was still on the boy and it was burrowing deeper. In another few days it would be out of sight, hidden by Ace's murky aura, the aura of someone who neither believed nor disbelieved in the Arcane. A troublesome aura and an excellent cover for the curse. Flint's lack of belief was so strong his aura was unyielding rock, true atheism. No curse could affect him directly. Ace's murk was typical of one that hadn't formed an opinion one way or the other, agnostic. He could be affected by spells and it was a pain to try to remove them once they sunk below the surface due to the interference.

Rasputan would need an excuse to examine Ace directly if there was to be any chance of removing the damned thing before it found a way to take effect. Spells grew stronger with time and the longer it took the more invasive his own spell craft would have to be to locate it. He doubted that amateur job would be very hard to remove once he did.

The caster's identity would just have to wait.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This is the chapter, upon being written, changed the entire flavor of the Fire Prince series. This was going to be a science type thing going on and this is the chapter that changed it to magic. I wrote the chapters out of order last November, mainly because of how the layout was originally planned. This chapter was even on the radar last November. When the decision to change the layout happened then this one was planned in and was written during the July/August sprint.

Rasputan materialized first as a random name call in Rats in the Hold (a much later chapter in this story, you will notice he is not part of the random name call now.) Then during Mutiny (another later chapter) he became the guy that had been around long enough to talk to Flint about unsavory subjects. (That speech was heavily edited because of the change in relationship dynamics that developed as I wrote the other chapters, so it no longer resembles what it did. More on that when we get to Mutiny.)

Even as I was writing this chapter, I didn't know what Rasputan was supposed to be on the ship, other than a long timer. I made the decision to make him an officer since it would not have made sense for Flint not to acknowledge him in someway if he had been around that long even if he didn't have a specific job. It really wasn't until I reached the part about spells and witches that he became a witch.

The spell craft very much emphasizes craft in its execution. Most spell will be on the level of Bewitched/The Good Witch subtlety. If something is calling upon raw energy and big, it is using a tremendous amount of power that only the elites could call upon with a great deal of advanced preparation. Most spells are potions, are wood carvings, are writing, or are weavings and usually not noticed. In a manga or an anime you would see Rasputan writing figures on the hull in the background but in this medium, unless it is from his perspective or someone is looking at him, there is no way to depict what he's doing.

The spider is the same way. Wolfie, the wolf spider, is constantly running around in the background but I have very few opportunities to show her in the story, which is why I will have random spider mentions and spider drops in here. Like in the chapter Silver, Ace throws the potato peeler and nearly hits the spider. Again, if this were a manga or anime depiction, you would see the spider sitting, running around or even jumping on crewmembers in the background of other scenes. I couldn't do that with this medium

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	10. Lessons

Chapter 10: Lessons

"Ye're healing nicely, lad. A lesser man would still be bedridden after an injury like that," noted Flint when Ace entered his cabin. The door was wider than some to accommodate Flint's use of his cane, but it was still a bother for Ace to get through while using crutches.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" said Ace in a quiet voice, his manners impeccable. Flint had been in a foul mood since the incident with the cannon. Ace had heard that the saboteur had been located and dealt with, but Flint had remained angry. There were whispers of an unnamed accomplice, but no one would admit to such when Ace asked. All insisting that matter was closed, but was it?

"So docile," said Flint as he gestured for Ace to approach. He was sitting behind his desk near the large square windows. Two books and several sheets of paper rested on the black lacquered top. Ace hesitated then moved closer, unsure of Flint's intent. There was an extra chair next to Flint's. It wasn't as nice as the captain's, but it wasn't a crate either.

"Dinnae be so apprehensive, lad. Sit down." Flint pushed the chair out. Ace came around the desk and lowered himself into the offered seat. "I heard ye were so bored in that sick bed that ye were tying knots all day for the last three."

"It seemed like something I could do while I was just lying there," said Ace. "If I had used a different knot…"

"The figure-eight was perfectly serviceable, lad, and it was secure," said Flint, overriding Ace's remark. "Austin made certain of it before he let ye fire the cannon. The fault lies with the bastard who thought it acceptable to untie it."

Ace remained silent. He hadn't been on the ship long and Flint was all over the place with his responses to various circumstances. Ace still didn't know where he stood or what his future with such an unstable crew would be. If there was a future for him. Just another reason he needed to get off this boat!

"Since ye're still recovering and can't handle the physical chores just yet, I thought we might as well start a bit of book learning. That never requires a good leg." Flint picked up one of the sheets and held it to Ace. "I need to know first if ye are able to read and write. I find that is a lacking trait among urchins. Since it int a necessary skill when it comes to trash picking."

Pride pricked; Ace snatched the paper from Flint. He looked down at the sheet and began reciting it. It was some non-sequitur that involved rainbows and unicorns, its sole purpose was just to practice reading and dictation. Ace was doing well until he reached the lower part of the page and an unfamiliar character tripped him up. He had never seen the character or the word before. He tried to figure it out by skimming ahead only to find more and more unfamiliar characters and word structures. His voice fell silent.

"So, no former schooling," said Flint after a moment. "However, ye can read a newspaper and common books. Now let's see yer writing." The captain handed Ace a pen and paper. "Write about yer dream. What it is. Why ye're chasing it. How ye plan to achieve it."

"Why?" asked Ace as he held the pen over the blank sheet. It seemed like such a personal topic for a simple assessment of writing skills and he was feeling subconscious at the moment due to his vulnerable state. He wouldn't be able to do anything if someone mocked him for his dream, but this was Flint. He wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway.

Flint answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Easiest thing to write about that can fill a page and show me yer writing ability."

Ace accepted that with a grunt and began writing. Soon he had filled the page as the man requested then handed the paper over for Flint's scrutiny.

"Yer handwriting is terrible," stated Flint with a judgmental squint, "and so is yer sentence structure. Ye're actually more coherent speaking than writing." Ace bit his tongue. Flint slapped another sheet in front of him. "Solve these."

Ace looked down at the sheet, it was filled with addition problems. "Seriously?"

"Do ye have anything better to do?" Flint's expression was neutral, giving Ace no hint to whether the captain was amused or annoyed.

Ace sighed and began solving each problem which increased in difficulty as he progressed down the page. When he had finished Flint handed him a page of subtraction problems and Ace solved those as well. Then the third page of numbers was placed in front of him. Ace stared at the sheet then looked at Flint, confused.

"What's with the x?" he asked in a low voice.

"Have ye never done any multiplication before?" asked Flint. Ace just gave him a blank look. "Apparently not. Then we'll set these aside since yer numbers are lacking." Flint moved the sheet to join two others, one that had a symbol of a line with a dot both above and below it between the numbers and the other that was an incomprehensible mix of those symbols and letters as well. Ace stared at that final page and wondered what the hell it represented, while dreading ever finding out.

"It's been a long while since I had to fill the role of schoolmaster." Flint chuckled as he rose from his seat and went over to his shelves. "Yer reading at a functional level and I want yer writing to reflect that, so we'll work on that. We'll also need to expand yer knowledge of numbers."

"Why, do I need this?" asked Ace as Flint pulled a pair of books from his shelf.

"Because ye're smart and I believe smart people should not be allowed to rot." Flint returned to his seat and set the books down in front of Ace. "Consider this a workout for yer brain and stop complaining. If ye blow this off, there is no way I'll be teaching ye navigation and chart reading."

Navigation? Chart reading? Really?! "Oh," was all Ace said in response as he buried his excitement. Navigation would definitely be useful when he finally escaped the ship. He didn't want to end up on the Alure Sea again. He might not make it out next time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was a fun one that revealed Flint's schoolmaster tendencies and Ace beginning his school lessons to make him capable of learning Flint's brand of navigation as well as his ability to forge documents.

Once again this ended up shorter than intended due to editing. In the original version there was a lot more narration due to the culprit not have been found yet.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	11. Blooding

Chapter 11: Blooding

Ace sat on the stairs that led up to the helm, his crutches between him and the wall, while he studied. Flint had given out another special order regarding his treatment to the crew much to Ace's displeasure and the crew's growing irritation. It was a simple order, though; leave Ace be when he was doing his assignments. Since half the crew couldn't read and didn't see the benefit of books, they just saw Ace's newest assignments as barely disguised laziness. But Flint was serious, and the crew left him alone while he studied. They saved their vendettas for mealtime where they bumped, tripped or found ways to ruin his food while Silver insisted he eat it, no matter how messed up it got.

Ace had tried to do the study thing in the privacy of Flint's cabin but, after a few days, he found that to be as claustrophobic as the medical ward. Flint allowed Ace to read outside, as long as he was in no one's way and actually reading. Ace's assignment was to read a chapter, write down any unfamiliar words or kanji he came across and write a briefing on what went on in the chapter. He then had to borrow Flint's dictionary, or the giant-book-of-words-that-were-really-unnecessary-if-you-weren't-a-scholar, and write down the definition of the word plus a whole new sentence that demonstrated he had learned how the word was to be used. Ace would rather wash the underwear Oscar had worn for a whole week while eating beans for dinner after which it was left in a pile of laundry lying next to a window where the sun liked to shine for five whole days than continue with this torture. Ace wisely did not say this to Flint.

The cry from the lookout in the crow's nest drew the attention of the whole crew. With the alarm raised of an approaching pirate ship, the crew leapt into action. Ace had thought the incoming pirates were crazy or confident until Flint, who grabbed him by the arm and led him to his cabin, reminded him that their ship was disguised. The incoming pirates thought they were attacking a trade vessel.

Since Ace's leg was still healing, Flint locked him into his cabin. Ace watched what he could of the fight from the windows, hating that he was confined even though it made sense.

The ships exchanged cannon fire for several minutes, with the Shindig Pirates' own vessel nimbly dodging the Maiden's shots. Ace felt the ship take several hits, but she never listed nor showed any sign she was damaged by the blows. Ace wondered for a moment about that, but then the Shindig Pirates closed, the cannon fire inexplicably stopping.

The ship pulled alongside and the next phase in the battle began in earnest on deck. Shouts and screams of men, the clang of steel on steel and even the deadly popping of guns filtered into the room where Ace waited. The door shuddered a few times when someone collided with it, but it never gave. A few minutes later silence descended. Flint appeared and unlocked the door stepping back out of the way. He said nothing and Ace emerged to see what had become of the enemy pirates. Their ship was still alongside from what he could tell from the window. It was an action he soon came to regret.

The survivors had been restrained and it was clear something more was going to happen. Ace had been on the ship long enough to realize that Flint wouldn't tolerate anyone linking the trade ship Andrea of the Duchy of Kels to the pirate ship Maiden's Sorrow. And it seemed the Shindig Pirates had realized who they were facing. They were dead men but why were they being held prisoner? Why hadn't they been finished off already?

Flint gestured toward one of the bound pirates. "That one, bring him forward." A very ordinary looking pirate was separated from his comrades.

"Oi! What are you going to do to Aaron?" shouted one of the others.

"Mercy," replied Flint with a grin that could curdle milk. He turned to face Ace. "Provided our cabin boy is agreeable." Ace looked at Flint in confusion while several Headhunters began to snicker.

Flint drew his cutlass then held it hilt first to Ace. Ace looked at it then back at Flint. Ace had been weaponless since before boarding the Maiden's Sorrow. Flint had refused to give him one since he thought it would cause trouble. Why was Flint handing him his own cutlass now?

"Ye're unbloodied, lad," said Flint. Ace understood even less, or perhaps it was more accurate to say he didn't want to understand. However, Flint expanded his comment removing that last obstacle. "Fighting thugs and failed pirates in the back alleys of Goa int the same. Ye merely beat those men into retreat, ye never killed them. Authorities dinnae care much if ye thrash lawless men. In fact, they find amusement in street urchins trussing up a bandit. However, for ye to survive at sea, ye need to let go of the childish notion that ye can be a pirate without killing anyone. If ye dinnae, ye'll wind up dead and very likely so will yer crew. So best to get this over with now, before ye're responsible for anyone."

Ace felt the blood drain from his face. Jason has said as much when he had been teaching Ace how to sew. Was this where it began, the destruction of his soul? "You want me to kill him now, when he's helpless? In cold blood?"

"Aye. I do," replied Flint still holding the cutlass to Ace.

"You said he was getting mercy," cried one of the prisoners. The man, Aaron, looked between the two, fear twisting his face and he shook his head. A silent plead. Ace stepped back, though, the crutches made it a less than smooth action.

"This is mercy," replied Flint with removing his gaze from Ace, his expression still neutral and the cutlass unmoving. "What do ye think the rest of ye will get? I dinnae take prisoners and I can scarcely let men, who know the truth about my game, walk away."

If this was mercy, then what was going to happen to the rest of the survivors? They weren't going to be allowed to live to tell tales so what was he planning…? Ace felt sick as realization dawned on him. The stories of Flint always described the terrible way his victims and enemies died. Ace had thought they were exaggerations, was that wrong?

"Take the cutlass, Ace," ordered Flint. There was an edge to his voice, notes of authority absolute, an expectation for immediate obedience. The whole crew could hear it and they held their breath, waiting to see what their reluctant cabin boy would do.

Moving as if in a dream, Ace took the cutlass as commanded then looked again at his victim. The man only appeared to be a few years older than him. Ace glanced at Flint again, certain he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill a man in cold blood.

Without warning, Flint grabbed his wrist and yanked. Ace lost his balance, staggering forward, his right crutch falling to the ground and his left leg crumpling when his weight came down on it. The cutlass's blade plunged into the lower belly of the prisoner. Aaron screamed in pain as his crewmates cried out in horror.

Horrified, Ace yanked the blade back, his wrist now free, as he reclaimed his footing. He leaned on his remaining crutch; his throbbing ankle forgotten as he stared. Blood and entrails sprouted from the hole in the man's lower abdomen. Ace dropped the cutlass as if were a venomous snake. The man wailed in agony.

"Finish it, Ace," ordered Flint. He leaned casually on his cane as if nothing had just happened. "No doctor in the world can save a man whose intestines have been split and spilled. He is doomed to die now but it will be hours before he does, and this type of wound is among the most painful a man can receive." Flint nodded to his men, who dropped the dying prisoner onto the deck.

"He widnae be suffering if ye had done it right the first time," continued Flint.

"You made me!" gasped Ace, his voice cracking.

"Ye are the one that failed to kill him properly when I told ye to," said Flint, his voice soft. "Do it right, now. Or do ye enjoy listening to a grown man sob like a small child?"

Ace looked down at his victim. The man was curled around his wound, trying in vain to push his ruined intestines back into his stomach; fighting for life with every breath he took.

"Pick up the cutlass, Ace, and end him," ordered Flint. "Ye will not leave that spot nor be allowed to turn away until ye do."

Ace felt bile rising. The man was dead already for all that he was fighting. He wasn't going to live through this day. If he just killed him, he could save the man, save Aaron, from further pain. It was over for him. His career as a pirate was done. His captain had challenged the wrong ship, and this was the fate of pirates that failed their challenges.

It was now clear to Ace that Flint's men were going to torture the survivors before they killed them. That's why it was a mercy to have Ace kill this man. Ace hadn't wanted to believe it. Hadn't wanted to accept it despite what happened to the man that had sabotaged his cannon. Ace had somehow hoped the wanton killing of crew was the worst of it, but he was wrong.

_This is mercy_, he thought. He reached down and picked up the cutlass with trembling fingers. _It's mercy_. He raised the sword above his head. _Mercy_. And brought it down with all his strength, severing the neck and silencing Aaron's pitiful cries forever.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I only showed three pirate encounters, this being the first one, but they actually have more than three. They just all go the same way so there was no point in writing it if something significant wasn't happening. In this case, this was just the novelty of being the first engagement since Ace came onboard.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	12. Scottie

Chapter 12: Scottie

"Flint says I'm supposed to help you today," said Ace as he peered into the lower hold.

"Did he now?" said the Maiden's shipwright. The man didn't turn to look at Ace as he continued tightening the bolt on whatever device he was working on. He was shockingly scrawny for a member of a pirate crew and pale with head of curly blonde hair that rarely saw a comb. A set of goggles were pushed up onto his forehead while a pair of magnifying spectacles covered his eyes allowing him to see the minute details of his work. Several flameless lights adorned the interior of the lower hold giving the shipwright more light than an equal number of lanterns would have. He spent most of his time indoors than out, tinkering on whatever his gizmo of the week was. Many times these projects were abandoned midway and disassembled to become parts for his next.

Austin had explained this, along with other ship details, to Ace as they were leaving Desoro. The ship had been changing it appearance from Headhunter to docile trade ship and the master gunner was showing Ace where the Andrea's "clothes" were kept and how to put them on and take them off without causing damage to the items or misaligning it. A mistake that would render the cloak obvious to an inspector's keen eye.

Explaining Scottie and his eccentricities was essential to survival if one didn't want to wind up the test subject of a finished device, one he was motivated to finish just so he would have something to test on the fool that invoked his wrath. It was never a good end for the teste; so explained Austin. No matter how spectacular the failing of the device, it never went wrong all over Scottie. And when it did work, which was rarely, Flint got a new toy to add to his ship and they were still scrapping the remains of the fool out from between the planks for several weeks.

With no reason to disbelieve the tale of horror, Ace resolved to never give Scottie reason to test anything on him. The flameless lights intrigued him, though. They were not in the main hold where their light would have been extremely helpful. Instead regular lanterns were used there and above, probably due to the Marine inspections. Ace was having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that Marines boarded Flint's ship routinely enough for there to be a policy.

The flameless lights in the lower hold made a lot of sense where their lack of fire meant they were not burning good air that could come in short supply this far below deck. The lower hold was a section that ran below the main hold and was kept hidden by trapdoors that blended in with the flooring. The doors could only be opened when sudden pressure, like a kick or stomp not a simple step, was placed on a specific spot. It was a smugglers' hold and it kept the ship's ill-gotten treasures and cargo hidden from port and Marine inspectors.

Scottie turned to face Ace. The magnifying spectacles made his brown eyes look like they were popping out of his head. "Why would the captain tell a greenhorn like you to help me?" he asked, exasperated.

"Flint said I needed to learn ship maintenance," replied Ace in a polite tone. Whatever it was Scottie was working on at the moment was huge, definitely not a time to test the shipwright's mood.

"He did, did he?" said Scottie as he pulled the magnifying spectacles off his face and pushed the goggles to take their place. They still made his eyes look obnoxiously big. What was the different with them then? "Well why don't you toddle after Ras, then. He does the bulk of the maintenance around here."

"Uh?" _Ras? Who was that?_ "Captain said I had to follow you, specifically you, as in he put your name in that sentence," said Ace, becoming annoyed despite the warnings and his own resolution. "You can check with him if you think I misheard."

Scottie regarded Ace for a moment. They both knew Flint didn't like having people coming to him to confirm his orders. That being said, if anyone thought they could take advantage of this to give out false orders, they would suffer a gruesome execution once caught. So, one could trust the orders relayed were authentic.

Scottie sighed and waved the young man down to join him. "I need to finish tightening the bolts on the right engine then I'll be examining the left. I'll talk you through my process once I start on the left, though, since I'm almost done with the right."

Ace complied. The lower hold was the same size as the main hold. Which surprised him. He knew the draft of a ship could often reveal the amount of cargo onboard as well as a smuggling attempt.

Smuggling vessels had often been spotted in Goa when a ship sat lower in the water than the cargo visible could account for. When an inspector got suspicious of a ship's height, they would order all the cargo brought ashore. Once the ship was empty, they would check her draft again. If the vessel was found to still be too low in the water, men would break the boards of the lowest deck, revealing the hidden hold and the smuggled cargo.

The few times Ace had witnessed the unloading of an impounded vessel, the amount of cargo pulled from the lower hold was less than half of what could fit in the main one. This indicated the hold was smaller, suffering in head space in an attempt to minimize the draft difference in the ship. Which seemed likely, the two ships he knew of had been discovered because the main holds had lacked head space when the ships should have had full sized holds. The men working those vessels had made many bitter complaints about bumping their heads on the low ceiling.

For this lower hold to be big enough for him to stand comfortably in…

"How is it possible?" muttered Ace as he looked around.

"How's what possible?" countered Scottie, irritated.

Ace reached up and tapped the beams that were safely above his head. "I thought smuggling holds were short to hide themselves from inspectors." Scottie stared at the young man in annoyance for a moment then broke into a grin.

"Neat trick, huh?" said the shipwright. He tapped his wrench against the hull. "She's designed to cut deeper than her sisters yet sits in the water as if this hold doesn't exist at all. It's only in shallow water that she is revealed so we only call ports that service the bigger vessels. They won't have ports too shallow for us to handle."

"What about the draft inspections? Wouldn't that reveal her true depths?"

"If they had the ability to measure under the water, then yes, but they don't. The ship isn't just a chameleon, she's an illusionist. She has a ballast system that balances her and keeps the lower hold below water even when she's empty. In other words, boy, she sits in the water as if this part of the ship doesn't exist. So, the surveyors see nothing out of the ordinary when they measure her. She's always sitting where she is supposed to be no matter how full or empty her insides are.

"Before she had our current system, Flint used disposable weights, rocks mainly, in the lower hold to balance out the weight and keep her sitting right in the water. The new system takes on water and pours it back out as needed. That and these are what I maintain."

Ace was impressed and he suspected Scottie was the creator of the ballast system used to hide the deeper draft of the ship from the burst of pride he exhibited as he spoke. Ace turned to look around while the shipwright went back to his work.

It was a room he was in, not the full lower hold. There was a wall a few feet beyond the engines. The same amount of space existed on three sides of the engines, allowing space for working. The fourth side of the engines was pressed against the hull of the back of the ship where the engine and the wall were covered in black rubber and tar, a watertight seal. The presence of a fire dial, the weird fire spewing seashell, a metal bucket of tar and the present dribbling of water down the wall indicated patching was a constant. The engines were exposed to the ocean beyond.

Ace realized these engines were not Scottie's latest project but the ship's secret for sailing straight into a headwind or through a calm. Scottie's job was to maintain the engines of the ship.

"There," grunted Scottie as he pulled back from the right engine. "These things need so much attention, but they are worth all the fuss. Much better than the old system."

"Old system? You mean you did build these in the Maiden originally?" asked Ace.

"How old do you think I am?" asked Scottie with a sniff, though, he seemed more amused than offended. "The Maiden is as old as the name Flint, but these beauties don't even have a decade on them. The Maiden originally had a dual Jet Dials set up here. Those are of the same origin as those fire dials, but they blast air and allow boats to move through water without wind. You hook them up to a craft below the waterline and away you go. However, even Jet Dials struggle to move something this big. It was only ever good for crossing the Calm Belt. With these, she can outmaneuver the Marines. They are a lot of work to maintain, though, which the Jet Dials didn't need."

Scottie walked up to the tar bucket. "The only thing I haven't being able to solve is the stress the engines put on the wood. The turbines inside generate a lot of power but the vibrations they create from driving the water through the system causes the wood and the metal to separate. All this is to keep the ocean from flooding in." He gestured to leaking wall then the floor beneath the two massive machines. Ace noticed then the rubber seal beneath them and that part of the machine went into the floor. There was no evidence of fresh tar and leakage didn't appear to be a problem there.

"The intake doesn't have that problem so it's the power of the water being thrust out that is causing the damage. It's possible the whole room needs to be more devoted to being a massive engine block but the juncture between this area and the rest of the ship will present a problem. It might end up being easier for an eagle-eyed inspector to spot a shift from wood to metal below the waterline. Water can distort the perception of things below it, it can't change its appearance, though."

Scottie snickered a moment. "The good news is that this part of the ship never needs any ballast to keep it low. The ballast system is for the front of the ship to keep her balanced as well as low."

Ace wondered what was so amusing about that but didn't ask. Sometimes it was best to accept that everyone's humor was as unique as the person.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yes, the Shipwright working Flint's engines is named Scottie. He was originally called Lawrence but then the inevitable line "I'm giving her all that I got, Captain!" echoed through my head during a possible scene and he's been Scottie ever sense. Mercifully the line did not make it into the story. I can't promise later stories but I promise this won't have it.

FYI, the entry "The Dancing Bear Tavern and other Shorts" is actually tied to this story. Right now, The Dancing Bear Tavern that has been referenced in this story is the only entry, the rest will be what I call the "missing chapters". The way Through Fire and Brimstone was written, I could have kept adding to it. However, these entries were inspired and/or written during or after the stories final edit. Some, for the sake of flow not information, would have required rewriting other chapters. That's not something you want to do when you are committing yourself to a final edit. They didn't interfere with the story, weren't needed for it, but would be more glimpses of life aboard the Maiden's Sorrow. Like Vaccines, which will be the next entry to "The Dancing Bear Tavern and other Shorts", is an event that occurs between chapter 10 and chapter 11.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	13. Rasputan

Chapter 13: Rasputan

Ace felt like his brain was burning to nothing. Scottie hadn't spared him long winded explanations about his precious engines. Once the shipwright had gotten started about the inner workings of the ship's propulsion system there had been no stopping him. He'd insisted on Ace learning how to do the general tweaking to the machines and waterproofing the room.

Ace didn't think he should ever be put in charge of machinery. The whole thing had been way over his head, and he had said as much to Scottie. He had also made sure to feed tons of compliments to the prickly shipwright. The man was a genius by far, and Ace didn't want to be a test dummy for his experiments.

Ace was beginning to feel an overwhelming need to escape the dark, cramp quarters of the engine room when a head poked in from above.

"Damn, Scottie, I told you to let me know when the light stones were getting dim. How are you even working in this twilight?" Ace stiffened; he knew that accented baritone. It was the voice of the man that had spanked him on the first day and then held him down while he was tagged with the Headhunter's earring. He hadn't interacted with him since for those very reasons and because he had that option.

"Why should I?" replied Scottie with a shrug as he reached up for a small pouch the man was holding out. "You're always on time with the switching out."

Ace looked between the two and only then realized that the newcomer was correct. The room had become gloomier. It had been a slow encroachment and his eyes had adjusted without realizing. He flinched when a burst of brilliance escaped the pouch as Scottie removed a new light stone from it and turned to replace the dimming one on the wall.

"I swear if I never came by, you'd still be working in pitch darkness," said the man. He didn't enter the area, instead crouching on the edge of the hatch as he spoke.

Scottie ignored the comment and instead said, "Good timing, though. I just finished up with the green horn here. Go take him around with you.

The man flicked a glance at Ace then back at Scottie. "I haven't received any such orders."

"He's supposed to be learning ship maintenance," said Scottie as he replaced another stone, the area growing brighter with each new light.

"You're the shipwright and I think the captain said that was your responsibility," said the man evenly. Ace just stayed where he was, his temper rising. He hated being talked about like he wasn't right there. His opinion mattered not-at-all to either of them.

"Stop being modest, you're the one that kept the ship sailing before I came onboard. I keep all the shiny new additions running smooth, but it's you with the know-how on keeping her from sinking. No ship has ever lasted half as long as this one."

Ace peeked again at the man through the hatch. He remembered what Scottie had said that morning. That if he wanted to learn ship maintenance, he needed to follow Ras. This must be Ras. Still, why hadn't Flint told him to see Ras if he was more knowledgeable of the ship's build? Maybe that was what he planned to tell Ace to do tomorrow and Scottie was just jumping the gun.

Scottie finished exchanging stones and the engine room was now as bright as high noon on deck. He walked over to Ace and handed him the pouch that was now full of dim or dark light stones.

"Here, give them to Ras as you head up. You're done here today," he said.

"Yes, sir," replied Ace, still sour about being talked over. Scottie huffed then gave the young man a hard slap on his rear. Ace yelped in surprise, not pain, but flushed red in embarrassment for it anyway.

"Get moving, boy," ordered Scottie as he turned away. "You're slower than a snail and I've got fresh ideas to try."

Ace blanched and rushed up the ladder. He was not going to be anyone's test dummy.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Despite his earlier annoyance, the man showed no irritation at Ace's presence.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced," he said once they were clear of the hatch.

"You're Ras, right?" said Ace, hesitantly. The response from all crewmembers when he got things wrong, with the exception of the timid Jason, was to hit him, and he knew how hard Ras could smack him. While Ace could take a beating, he was getting tired of it and he was also tired of being hit twice for the same offense. Whenever he appeared with a fresh bruise Flint would always demand to know about the reason behind it and, if he judged the offense to be particularly outrageous, would hit Ace himself. Ace still hadn't figure out what would set Flint off. All the reasons he got smacked by crewmembers for seemed equal to him but not to Flint.

The man was tall with dark hair that appeared black but sometimes flickered brown in the dim light of the main hold with full but neatly trimmed beard, and he wore a long red coat lined with black fur with a matching fur cap despite it being a warm day. A pair of cutlasses adorned the sides of a thick belt that held his coat closed and heavy boots clomped on the deck as he walked. Exactly as he had appeared on the first day.

He turned and reached toward Ace. Ace, to his shame, stepped back and arched a shoulder in anticipation of a strike. The man cupped his hand around the back of Ace's skull and turned the young man to face him. He then ruffled Ace's dark locks and grinned.

"It's Rasputan. Ras is what some people call me, but you haven't earned that privilege," he said in that thick accent Ace had never encountered before. It had taken a few days to place Flint's Scotsman's accent, though it wasn't particularly thick which was what had thrown Ace at first. Goa had a regular stream of sailors arriving from Scotia on the trade ships, but their accents were so bad they might as well have been speaking a foreign language. It was Flint's choice in curses that had tipped his hand.

"Relax, boy, I said we weren't formally introduced," he continued in that impossible to identify accent. He was definitely not Scottish. "I'm not going to slap you for being overly familiar when you were merely repeating what Scottie called me not a minute earlier."

"I've been smacked for less," muttered Ace before he could stop himself.

"This crew likes to hurt just because they can," said the man with a shrug. "Without Flint's protection, you would be hurting a great deal more."

"And you don't?" Ace asked incredulously. Jason was one thing and Scottie seemed too obsessed with his gizmos to care about people, but this man was an officer and besides… "You hit me hard enough and long enough the first day."

Ras frowned. "I hurt when I need to, but it's always business. I don't particularly enjoy my work. Besides, that first day you bit me when you needed to be quiet. The captain was speaking with the Marines. It would have been bad if you caught their attention."

Ace turned red and looked away. He fought the instinct to apologize for it. He was not going to apologize for trying to save himself from all this. Instead he continued with his original questions.

"Then why are you here? Do something that you actually enjoy instead of slaving on this boat," said Ace, irked. What did this man do anyway? Austin oversaw the cannons. Jaeger enforced order. Silver was the cook. Quillan was the Vice-captain. What was Rasputan's purpose other than doing the parts of Scottie's job that Scottie didn't want to deal with? Was he just existing without any title or real authority despite his status because he had been the shipwright?

"Hmm. I can see why you rub people the wrong way. Your temper is too short for your own good. You were doing well at the start, but you seem to be mistaking my easy-going nature for being a pushover."

Ace suddenly felt a cool breeze kissing skin that it should not be able to touch. He looked down to discover his belt had come undone and his black shorts were down around his ankles. Ace dropped to the ground to pull up his shorts, remembering to bend at the knees and keep his bare backside beneath him. The sailors on this ship had quickly conditioned him to kneel rather than bend in two when retrieving anything from the ground. It was a bit of a pain to try to fix his pants like this, but he would not give the man a target now that he had vexed him. Especially after what happened the last time he vexed him. It had been days before Ace could sit properly and Rasputan had kept Ace's shorts on that time.

A red-orange cloth fell on his head. Ace grabbed it and held it out to look at. It was a set of shorts, smaller than his black shorts and made from thinner fabric. A flame pattern adorned the leggings and a spiral pattern on the left cheek made him blush. It perfectly matched his oh-so embarrassing scar. He then realized he was holding a set of boxers.

"Put this on," said Rasputan, from where he had settled on a crate. He was now puffing on a long thin pipe. "It's a bit embarrassing how easy it is to rob you of your dignity. This will help better guard it."

Ace didn't know what to say. He had felt self-conscious since he was pantsed by Quillan back in Desoro, but couldn't they have been plain shorts? Ace hadn't had a allowed to go ashore yet to even shop and would he even be given an allowance to buy things with? He somehow didn't think Flint would like it if he stole things. Flint had an image to uphold.

Rasputan took another puff, blowing the smoke in a thin gentle stream. "There is a saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth."

Ace stared for a moment. Did the smoke have color and was the color changing? He shook his head and, with a resigned sigh, stepped out of his black shorts to put on the boxers. He stood once he had his shorts pulled back up over the new boxers and tightened his belt. He could have sworn the man never touched anything below his head.

"Now before we continue, you do realize that easy-going is not the same as pushover and that kindness is not the same as weakness, right?" asked Rasputan from his seat.

"Yes, sir," replied Ace in a subdued voice. _Why did he bring up kindness? Does he think I think he's kind because he gave me those boxers?_

"Good, I don't believe you think easy-going is the same as pushover. You just have easy to lite fuse. However, I do believe you think kindness is a weakness.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you are kind and this ship is not good to those who are," replied Rasputan. He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it to Ace. Ace caught it on instinct then looked at what he was given. It was a silver chain with a half circle pendant. There was some king of design engraved on one side but without the other half he couldn't tell what it was.

"What is it?" asked Ace as he stared at it.

"It's Aaron's," replied Rasputan in an even tone.

Ace dropped it as if it were molten metal. He uttered a few colorful oaths and barely suppressed the urge to kick the pendant away. The necklace had belonged to the man Ace had had to kill three weeks ago. He had been sick from the horror and guilt of having murdered a helpless man for days afterwards. The memory welled up inside him and he could hear Aaron's whimpers, smell the stench of cut intestines and feel the droplets of blood that had sprayed onto his face. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he swallowed several times to keep from vomiting all over the deck. He sat down on the floor as he struggled to control himself, his whole body trembling with suppressed emotions. The tall lanky man just watched him through a cloud of his own smoke.

Once Ace had regained control over his stomach he whispered, "Why would you give me this? Do you think I would want a trophy of my first kill? That I'm proud of it?"

Rasputan blew more smoke then replied, "No." He took another pull from the pipe. "I wanted to see how you would react. As expected, you're still sick with guilt over the whole thing. Though, there wasn't anything you could have done. Once the Shindigs were defeated, death was all that awaited them. He was equally dead whether you slew him or not."

"I know that!" hissed Ace. Ace had been forced to watch what happened to Aaron's shipmates once Aaron was dead. It had taken three days for the remaining Shindig Pirates to die. Ace hadn't realized just how much abuse a person could take without dying until then and he wished he had remained ignorant. Worse still, was the way their ruined bodies had been displayed on the Shindig Pirate ship as a gruesome testament of what Flint could and would do to those that chose to fight him. Ace's broken ankle had been the only reason he had been spared having to help display the dead.

Still it was Aaron's death that haunted him not the deaths of the rest. It really had been an act of mercy to have Aaron killed at the start. It didn't change Ace's feelings, however. It felt like Flint was trying to turn him into a proper Headhunter. If Ace had just been forced to watch the torture, he would have been a helpless witness to the evil nature of the crew. By killing one of their prisoners, he was an active participant in that evil even though he had done it quick instead of prolonging it like the others.

Rasputan sighed. "It won't be the last time you have to kill, and it won't be just here. You'll have to do it again elsewhere. That is just the business of being a pirate. If you can't do it, you might as well have stayed ashore. The seas are not kind and this world is worse."

Ace shook his head. "Business?" Ace repeated what Rasputan had said earlier of his reason to cause pain and death. "You participated in that horrorfest! Are you going to really sit there and tell me that it was all business for you?"

"Yes, it is all business for me," he replied.

Ace felt every fiber of his body rebel. He teeth ground as he saw red. He felt a mad desire to strike out at the man.

"But I would prefer that it never became business for you," Rasputan continued through another puff of smoke.

Confusion replaced anger and Ace sat dumbfounded, all thoughts of attacking gone. The man slid off the crate and knelt on the floor in front of Ace's frozen form. He picked up the pendant and held it toward the young man.

"My business in torture is not a pirate's business but my own. I do not find joy in what I do but simple necessity for what I am. You are not that, thank the true gods, and should never sully yourself with such foul deeds. Aaron was business and a mercy. Remember always on this ship the fate of those who lose in battle should they fail to lose their lives. Focus on that terrible truth and kill only to spare them that hellish fate. You'll be able to do your duty and Flint will see no need to arrange these killings for you. I imagine you will find that battle will make it easier. You will be fighting for your life and your opponent will be as well. It will seem fairer and more honorable and perhaps easier to swallow. However, dodge such hardships and not only will your opponents have more chances in killing you but once they lose, they will have to face the crew's sadism. Worse still for you, Flint will make you kill like before."

"I don't want to become a killer," whispered Ace, tears threatening to fall at the hopelessness of his own situation. Aaron's terrified face would not leave his sight.

Rasputan stroked the young man's cheek, as gentle as a feather, his eyes filled with sympathy. "You do not have to become a killer. If you hold fast to these feelings and never take for granted the lives you end, you will never kill needlessly nor with joy in your heart.

"That is why I am giving you Aaron's pendant. Within it holds your guilt and his regret. Make it your mission to find the one that holds the other half of this pendant. Once you do, you will tell them the truth of Aaron's death."

Ace stared at the silver half-disc. "Why would I do that? So, I can explain I had no choice and beg their forgiveness and understanding? Why should I seek mercy?"

"There is no forgiveness at the end of this road, Ace. What you are doing is gifting them with closure. They will not know for certain what has happened to their loved one. You will put an end to the speculations and the waiting which can do worse than knowing the truth. Those who don't know find moving on impossible. With the knowledge of Aaron's death, they will be able to mourn and lay their loved one to rest. They will not forgive you. You are a murderer and they will never see you as anything else. This is not done for your sake but for theirs. It is about doing what's right because it is right, and it is about your own soul. If you hold to this mission, you will be forced to see the consequences of killing a man and will not do so again without cause. Again, it is to keep you from killing needlessly or finding joy in the ending of lives. You do not do this for forgiveness."

Ace stared at the pendant. Aaron's frightened, tear-filled eyes stared back. He could refuse. Run away from the awful feelings the pendant awoke in him. Perhaps he would be fine. Perhaps he would be twisted into the very creature he despised as he tried to escape his inner turmoil. There was no way for him to know.

But Ace hated to run away. To flee like coward from his own pain instead of facing it. Jason had and look where he was now. Jason was considered a coward by the rest of the crew. He had hidden when the torture occurred, but he hadn't flinched from fighting and had killed three men in that last battle.

Ace took the pendant and put the chain around his neck. The half-disc seemed to burn his collarbone where it rested. He clutched it, letting the vile feelings of illness and helplessness wash over him. He would not run. He would accept these feelings and he would overcome them. Then maybe one day he would have the strength to save another Aaron from such a fate.

Aaron's face hovered before Ace's inner vision. _Just wait_, thought Ace to the specter, _I'll find your home, your family, and return you to them. Even if they condemn me for my part, I'll take you home_.

The ill feelings eased and, for a moment before Ace blacked out, he thought he saw Aaron… smile.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rasputan smiled as he gazed at Ace. He had caught the boy when he passed out. Now he slept, his face peaceful. He picked up the youngster, easily lifting him onto the crates he had been sitting on a moment before. He took off his long coat and placed it over Ace, tucking the fur lined arms beneath the boy's head to act as a pillow. He smoothed the coat, activating the perception charms sewn into it. Now no one would notice Ace resting there and would avoid the area without realizing they were. It wouldn't do for Ace to get in trouble when it was Rasputan's fault he was out cold.

It had gone better than he had hoped. Too well, in fact. He had underestimated Ace's feelings on the matter. He knew there would be some amplification to the empathy charms he had placed on the pendant, but this had been alarming. The charms had meant to help Ace recall his feelings of guilt and regret so that he would not grow accustomed to killing. Something that was easy to do on such a ship as this. Though, Jason still held regret about his actions toward his best friend and fiancée, he now felt nothing when he killed. He may not enjoy it but there was something mechanical about his actions. Jason had dealt with his feelings by removing them entirely. He could still feel emotions but empathy and compassion for his fellow humans were gone.

Rasputan shrugged off Jason's loss hardly caring about the timid young man's emotional development. Ace on the other hand was something extra special. Something he had not seen since his long-ago youth. Something that he had feared lost to the sands of time. It was enough to make the Cossack care about the young man. Which he hadn't been able to do about anything for centuries.

An image of long silver hair blowing in the wind, a white full-length coat and ice blue eyes flashed in his mind. He shook his head. Maybe not centuries, but it still had been too long. He returned his attention to the boy before him.

This close, Rasputan could see the strands of protection rising from the murk. He twined his fingers around them, they burned his nerves with the rawness of their original emotion. Fierce and fatalistic love, the kind only a mother could possess. Ace's mother must have been a witch, perhaps not a very powerful one but the depths of her emotions and the strength of her resolve had more than made up for it. The strands were old, though, and fraying. Only the resolve and feelings remained in them when before they must have held a directive. Tragic.

A witch's spell only grew stronger with time. For this to have faded and frayed instead of strengthening indicated that Ace's life had been rife with danger even before heading out to sea. The spell had been worn down from repeatedly turning away dangerous threats, what was left of it struggled with its task. Given that Ace was now at sea exploring the pirate's path, the danger would only increase. Rasputan gave the ward only a few more years at best before it winked out.

And the death curse was not helping. The wretched spell had already burrowed deep into the murk of Ace's soul to call misfortune to the boy at is leisure. The wards could not act against it, they only responded to active threats the curse would now draw.

His coat did not interfere with his sight and he placed his hands against the boy as he began to sink into the murk to find and eliminate the loathsome arcane parasite.

"Ras, what are ye doing?"

Rasputan sighed as he drew his consciousness back to reality. Flint stood to the side of the crates looking at him, his expression neutral. If there wasn't an advantage to having a captain whose bedrock beliefs were "the arcane doesn't exist" Rasputan would have disabused him of the notion long before now. It still didn't make it easy to deal with.

"Giving Ace long overdue proper rest," answered the Cossack. Which wasn't a lie. The boy hadn't been able to sleep properly since coming onboard unless he was knocked unconscious. "You want to burn his brain with fresh knowledge, he needs proper sleep to absorb it and recover to burn it again the next day."

Flint raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He understood the value of sleep even if he didn't always act like it. Flint glanced down then back up. Rasputan gave a half smile. The cloak would only work on Flint if Flint wasn't looking for Ace, but Flint was here for Ace, so he saw him just fine. Everyone else would be blind to Ace presence no matter how hard they searched for him. Sigh.

"Ye like him," said Flint.

"Like grandchild," replied Rasputan and realized that he meant it. That was the feeling he was getting from Ace. That he was similar to someone he knew. He needed more time to examine Ace, not only to get that cruddy death curse off him but to figure out the distant connection linking him and the boy. This would require hours. Something that was not going to happen tonight.

"Just go tuck him into his hammock, already, before someone else sees him. Ye managed to make him look twelve in that thing," said Flint as he walked away.

Rasputan looked down at Ace. He did look young and vulnerable in his coat that was several sizes too big. Sigh.

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I apologize for the length of this chapter. I usually do a better job of checking my chapter lengths and breaking up these monstrosities. However, I don't want have to go back and adjust all the chapter numbers at this stage.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	14. The Inspection

Chapter 14: The Inspection

Flint examined the small craft. The longboat was on its side to display its underbelly where the problem was located. The wood along the longboat's keel was flaking and fragile. Small gaps had appeared where solid wood had been. The longboats stayed out of the water unless used to row ashore when the ship couldn't dock, however this one was showing signs of rot. Dry rot was just as damning to a boat as the regular kind.

Flint grunted as he straightened. "We'll need to replace her. There's no fixing a boat whose keel is rotten. Keep her tied down and dinnae use her, less ye want to take a swim." The crew acknowledged his orders then separated. The condemned longboat was set upright again then a black and red strip of cloth was tied to her oar mounts warning of her danger. Ace barely contained a sigh of relief. It seemed his ploy had survived scrutiny. Now he just needed to await the opportunity.

"Captain! Marine vessels approaching! Two of them!" cried the lookout. The newer members immediately became alarmed, but the rest remained calm.

"Nobody panic. We're nearing Emirates. The port authorities just want to have a look at us before we make berth," said Flint. He looked over his crew then continued. "Just act like there's no problem and there willnae be one. I'll do all the talking."

Ace had heard about these inspections but, aside from his first day aboard, had never seen how Flint interacted with Marines. Flint had taken advantage of the distraction of the Alure Sea and its fickle winds to avoid being boarded then, but now Ace would see how he actually handled the boardings that everyone said happened often.

Flint stopped in front of Ace and looked him up and down. Ace tried to look his usual unhappy self. Between the excitement of his escape plan passing the most difficult phase and his sudden impatience to implement the rest of it, Ace new he was a tad more energetic than usual. He feared that would tip his hand and everything would be lost. But Ace didn't have much practice in the art of deception and Flint detected Ace's suppressed eagerness.

Before Ace could react, he was grabbed by the neck and bent forward, his shirt flipped over his head. Flint flipped his coat for to retrieve his strap from within it then five sharp strikes hit Ace's bare back eliciting cries from the young man. Flint then released Ace and the young man straightened up, slapping his shirt from his face. The captain had taken to keeping the strap hooked to his belt soon after Ace arrived.

"What was that for?" yelled Ace. His suppressed excitement lost in his anger over the unprovoked beating.

"A reason for ye to be sulky," replied Flint as he returned the strap to his belt. "Marines get suspicious when someone is not acting as they expect."

"So, you fucking hit me?!"

Flint cocked his head to the side and said in an even tone, "Sounds like ye could use twenty more."

Ace bit his tongue in his haste to shut his mouth, to the amusement of his captain who proceeded not to give him anymore lashes. However, he wrapped his arm around Ace's neck and the young man stiffened.

"I will say this. Do anything to sabotage this inspection, like trying to alert the Marines to the reality of this ship and such, and the next lash ye feel will be from the clawed cat, understood?"

Ace paled and nodded. A cat was a wicked enough lash with its multiple leather tails, but the clawed cat had metal tips at the end of each tail. It cut stripes across the flesh of those struck with it. It had been one of many instruments of torment used on the poor souls of the doomed Shindig Pirates last month.

"Good," said Flint, ruffling the young man's ebony locks as he pulled away.

Ace ran his hand through his hair to straighten out the mess and remove the feel of Flint's fingers on his scalp. He seethed but said nothing less Flint give him the extra lashes he threatened before.

The commander of the two ships boarded the Maiden-dressed-as-the-Andrea without any show of concern. In fact, he seemed bored with the whole thing barely giving Flint any notice as the captain tried to engage him in trivial conversation. Ace had been around enough corrupt officials to recognize a commander who was more interested in the money to be made in such boardings than finding illegitimate business and lawless ships. Flint could bribe his way out of this inspection. Ace wondered if that was how most of his inspections went.

Ace thought of his grandfather and couldn't hide his contempt for the Marine. Marines were supposed to be enforcers of law and justice. They weren't supposed to act like criminals shaking down honest folk for their hard-earned money. Which was why Ace never had a problem is robbing criminals, those villains deserved to lose everything. The commander noticed Ace's judgmental stare. Apparently, he wasn't that bored.

"Is something the matter, boy?" asked the commander with a sneer as he stepped toward Ace, leaving Flint behind.

Ace glanced past the Marine and saw his captain raise an eyebrow, his green eyes sharp as steel. Ace swallowed and shook his head. "No, sir, nothing's wrong."

The commander eyed him then spat in his face. "Good! I'd hate to think you were being disrespectful of your betters." The man turned to face Flint, believing the matter done.

Ace saw red as wiped the sticky glob from his cheek. Between the spit, the classist comment and the situation as a whole, he couldn't contain his rage. He bent at the knees to launch himself at the foul man.

"Commander!" cried one of the Marine's subordinates.

Ace caught sight of Flint's outraged expression as the commander turned around. Too late to stop his attack even if he wanted and Ace didn't want to stop anyway. At that moment, all thoughts of punishment were banished to the darkest corners of his mind and all he cared about was smashing the arrogant Marine's nose. He pushed forward to attack and his foot slipped… on a deck that was dry and roughened to prevent such slippage even when soaked in water.

Down he went, bashing his knee on the unyielding wood and planting his face into the deck a second later. His teeth sank into his lower lip and his nose broke on impact. Hot blood gushed from the wounds on his face and he held his hand to his ruined nose and mouth.

The commander laughed at Ace's clumsiness. "Were you trying to do something just then? There wasn't even anything to trip on. How pathetic!" Ace's snarl was soundless, and his mouth was hidden behind his hand, but it must have been visible in his eyes. The commander's amused express darkened.

"Still you tried to attack an officer of the Marines, the very organization that protects your Captain's ability to do trade between the islands. You obviously have no proper respect or gratitude. Maybe a few days tied to the stocks will grant you both, you worthless cur?"

Ace froze, not from fear but from a sudden idea. If he should continue to push the commander, he would be removed from the ship. Ace was confident he could slip the stocks and he would be ashore with the Marines between him and Flint. A chance to escape had just presented itself and all he had to do was irritate the commander a little more…

"He tries my patience as well, every chance he gets," said Flint, limping forward to reach the commander's side. "I scolded him not an hour ago for his loose tongue. He is barred from heading ashore as punishment for his manners already. I understand yer desire to teach him respect." The captain reached over and slipped something into the commander's palm. Ace heard the clink of coins. "But I know what he hates most and sleeping in the stocks is not one of them. I'm sure ye understand if I want to handle his disciplining myself rather than troubling ye any further with this lad's stupidity."

The commander closed his fists around the offering and grinned. "Yes, I agree. We have so much to deal with it would be a waste of our efforts to discipline one little boy. I trust the next time I see him he will be more proper in his ways."

"Of course," replied Flint with a sickly-sweet smile.

The commander called to his men, who were not even half done with their inspections, and the Marines trooped back onto their ship and departed. Several pirates sighed in relief. Flint tapped his cane on the deck and looked at Ace, who remained sitting. The young man's knee was beginning to swell, and he still bled from his mouth and nose.

Ace looked up and saw Flint's disapproving frown. "I was not expecting ye to have any feelings toward the Marines like contempt. Ye smelled his corruption and actually disapproved of him. Most pirates like the type since they are easy to work with, or around."

Ace couldn't respond, which was just as well, as he would likely have said something to worsen his situation. Flint tapped his cane again.

"No real harm done, though. He was waiting to find an excuse to solicit a bribe from me anyway. So, I guess we can forgo the cat for yer unruly behavior."

Ace paled as he remembered Flint's promised response should he risk exposing the ship. Thoughts of punishments roared back to the front of his mind unbidden and he began to sweat cold drops.

"However, dinnae think I didnae recognize what ye were about to attempt. Ye may not have planned it, but ye were about to capitalize on that opportunity to leave the ship."

Ace still couldn't speak, and he couldn't deny it anyway. He had been thinking about it. Flint narrowed his eyes.

"Take off yer shirt and lean forward. Do not rise until I give my permission."

Ace thought of resisting for the briefest of moments, but what was the point. He couldn't escape now, and the rest of the crew would just hold him down if the captain ordered them too. Any resistance from him would only worsen the beating he was about to receive. Ace needed to be able to move around if he was to complete the next stage of his escape plan.

He really shouldn't have done anything. He shouldn't have let his temper get the better of him. He risked ruining his escape by trying to attack the Marine Commander and for what? Because he spat on him? Because he had talked down to him? He really did need to learn to pick his battles better, which churned his stomach since Flint was the one that said it to him first.

Ace looked down and did as he was instructed, pulling off his shirt and leaning forward, his head bowed so it wouldn't get hit by mistake. He heard Flint pull the strap from his inner belt, at least it wasn't the cat. He could handle the strap. He could work with the welts the strap would leave.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was a novelty event where we see Flint being boarded for the first time since Ace's conscription. I married it with the longboat inspection that plays a role in the next chapter to the events of this one. We also start to see Ace looking for opportunities to separate himself from Flint. This also touches on some of my own headcannon here about Ace's feelings toward the Marines.

In my mind, Ace's constant harping on his "dirty blood" whenever Garp said he should have been a Marine, meant Ace actually wanted to be a Marine but believed he couldn't because of who his father was. It was the dream he gave up on before he ever met Luffy and is the source of his anger. It was why he went around asking people "What if Roger had a child?" He was testing the waters to see if his dream was still doable and it wasn't, in his mind. After that, his decision to become a pirate of infamy was all that he had left to him. It was either become a pirate or sit in the corner and cry about his fate. Ace refuses to sit in the corner and cry.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	15. The Log Pose

Chapter 15: The Log Pose

Ace eyed the two pirates that had been left to tend the ship while Flint went ashore to discuss business with a broker. The two on watch were sound asleep at their posts, luckless losers of the draw. Ironically, while in a legitimate port, the ship required watchers to make sure no one snuck aboard. At a pirate port, the Headhunter Flag was all the security they needed. The ship was anchored to one of the outer docks, a chance for Ace to get a head start on his escape. The crew had taken all but one of the longboats when they went ashore. As Ace had planned.

While the watch slept, Ace checked on his craft. He had smuggled supplies into this boat over the last two days after Flint had checked on the validity of his claim that the little boat was rotten. Ace would have loved to have taken his original dingy, but the little boat had been stripped of its mast and sail and converted into a longboat. Besides, if he had indicated that boat, it might have tipped his hand. With no advantage, like a sail, and too much risk, Ace went for one of the other ones.

This place had lots of ships of various sizes scattered throughout the shallow bay creating a forest of hulls and masts, he could easily slip away in the dark, unnoticed. With the strong Marine presence, Flint couldn't kick up too big a fuss without stirring up suspicion from the Navy. Marines stuck their nose into everyone's business. If Flint cried jumper, they would definitely get involved but they would also want to punish the jumper themselves, with time in the stocks or a public flogging. Flint would just want Ace returned so he could be on his way.

The longer Flint lingered in a port the harder it was to maintain the façade of honest trades man. His cutthroat crew would give themselves away at some point. Not to mention the longer the Marines held onto Ace the more he could tell them calmly about Flint and his secrets. And the Marines might just listen, especially if he had details about recent raids. Another reason Flint didn't want Ace in Marine hands.

The thing was Ace didn't want to be held by the Marines either because there was no telling what Flint would do to him if that happened, even if Ace held his tongue or was simply not believed. Then there was his grandfather learning about all this…. No, he wanted to get away clean and not have to worry about either group, so to the sea he would disappear.

The longboat was set to go, he could leave at any time. The supplies he had smuggled onto the boat were things that when vanishing in small amounts wouldn't be missed due to daily usage. Now the only things left were the items in Flint's cabin that Ace would need to navigate out of there. The daily lessons he had endured for the past month had allowed Ace to notice the certain objects on the shelf, like the strange globe shaped compass. Flint had pointed out the navigation books when he promised to teach him once Ace was more confident with his numbers and letters. He may not have started on those lessons but with the navigation book as a guide a few charts and the compass, Ace was certain he'd be able to figure it out enough to sail.

One last check on the sulking pirates who had sloppily fallen asleep at their post and Ace slipped into Flint's cabin. He went straight for the needed items, gathering the charts and the navigation book first before retrieving the compass. When he pulled the compass off the shelf, he noticed something peculiar.

The needle wasn't pointing north. It was focused on something but not north like other compasses. Ace stared at it trying to figure out where it was pointing. If he couldn't figure it out, he couldn't use it. He hadn't spied any other compasses in the cabin, and he would be in trouble if he couldn't leave due to navigation issues.

"Maybe I'll just use the sun to orient this and get a compass at the next port," muttered Ace as he turned to head back out. He needed to be gone.

"That's not a bad plan, lad."

Ace jumped back as Flint stepped from the shadows of the room. How did a man with a bum leg and the clickiest cane Ace had ever heard sneak up on people? Flint's cane clicked as he approached Ace like it usually did, confirming that it was in fact a clicky cane. Ace stared not daring to take his eyes off Flint.

"I am properly impressed, a greenhorn fresh off the land barely two months aboard my ship nearly outwitted old Flint here." Ace felt himself stepping back, retreating. Despite the smile and the twinkling of amusement in his green eyes, there was something sinister lurking beyond the apparent mirth.

_I'm dead,_ thought Ace. _I was stealing from Flint! There's no way I'm living through this._

Ace's heels hit the desk and there was nowhere left for him to retreat. Flint continued forward until he was standing a foot away from the young man. He reached forward and pulled the unusual compass from Ace's quivering hands. He looked at the compass then grinned at Ace.

"It would have been tricky to figure out how to use this in this sea but doable. I wonder, though, if ye would have disposed of it once ye got a real compass?"

Ace said nothing, though, the idea of disposing it hadn't entered his mind. It was pointing at something and he was curious to find out what.

"Would have been a crying shame if ye did. This is called a log pose. Ye see, while it is all but worthless here in East Blue, it's, in fact, the simplest way to navigate on the Grandline. Compasses are useless there. The islands of the Grandline create their own magnetic field disrupting compasses. Log poses record the magnetism of an island then are attracted to the next. It's how ye travel down the Grandline toward the end. Though, there are islands that dinnae have these magnetic fields and can only be found through alternative means of navigation that relies on neither log pose nor compass. But that's a lesson for a later date."

Ace gaped. His goal was the One Piece and that lay on the Grandline, this compass he had wondered was broken was the very thing he needed to sail that treacherous sea. Ace couldn't help his reaction of reaching for the log pose. Flint grinned and pulled it away.

"Nah-uh, lad, ye aren't ready for this just yet. Ye'll be getting firsthand experience when I take ye to the Grandline after our time here in East Blue is done. Ye did an excellent job with that rot. If it had been Jason, I widnae have questioned it, but because ye are a bright lad of reckless courage… I took one extra look at the craft this morning."

Ace grimaced as he pulled his hand back. Flint wasn't underestimating him at all.

"Fine job hiding the supplies, almost didn't find them, and smuggling them on to the boat without anyone noticing. Truly well done. And further, memorizing the contents of my cabin during yer lessons… I knew ye were something extra special."

Ace felt things were about to get worse for him and it wouldn't be because of anything Flint did to him directly.

"Now put down those charts and that book, lad. Ye aren't going anywhere tonight."

Ace took a deep breath and let it out slowly then turned and placed the charts and navigation book on the desk, careful not to crease the paper. He braced himself, expecting Flint's cane on his back for his escape attempt, but it didn't come.

"Oh no, lad. Apprentice, though ye may be, ye were also on watch tonight. Once we're out to sea Jaeger will be strapping ye to the mast for some well-earned discipline. Check yerself into the brig and stay there until its time."

Ace blanched. The bosun had a heavy hand when it came to floggings, from what Ace had witnessed, but there was no way to protest Flint. This was how Flint ran his ship. "Yes, sir," whispered Ace as he turned to leave the room.

"First, though, clean the mess on the deck before the rest of the crew returns. I got some cargo coming aboard and I dinnae want to disturb the loaders, understand, Ace?"

Ace froze as he realized what had happened.

"Apprentices are still learning their place and need to be guided to correct behavior. Full crewmen know better and besides… Ye weren't sleeping on watch."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Flint watched Ace stagger out, the failure of his scheme hitting him as hard as if he had taken a punch to the gut. It had been a pretty good plan. The rot on the longboat still looked real, but a clipping of the wood revealed the keel was still whole and the holes were carved, chipped and darkened with ash to look worse than they were. It was a rather advance magician's trick, one that he hadn't thought Ace capable of yet which was why he had been initially fooled. If not for the doubting whispers, he might not have looked a second time.

Then there was Ace picking up on the details of his room when he didn't have time to examine it properly. He had a keen eye, an inquisitive mind, problem solving instincts and the courage to take leaps. All things Flint admired, but Ace still needed guiding and molding. It was far too soon for him to head out on his own.

Precocious children were such a hand full.

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This was another original flashback and had to be trimmed of its excess narration and adjusted.

This was originally slated to occur a month later and narrated about a few pirate attacks. However, not enough time had passed between this and the Shindig attack, so the narration was taken out. Ace originally revealed hiding in Flint's cabin during the torture sessions and that was how he spied the items he would need. But with no other attacks in the short time frame that had to be changed to him noticing things when he studied in the cabin.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	16. Vice-Admiral Desiree

Chapter 16: Vice-Admiral Desiree

This Marine inspection was not going anything like the last one. It was a mid-ocean random inspection meant to catch smugglers off-guard. The commanding officer aboard the battleship was a full vice-admiral not a commander or even a captain. And worse the commanding officer was a woman.

It was rare to see female Marines. The physical demands and combat were more suited to men than women. However, that just meant that if a woman Marine appeared, she was usually tough as nails and twice as smart as her male counterparts. Woman Marines had to fight for every shred of respect from their equals and even more so from their superiors. They had to outperform men in all fields and be paradigms of Marine virtues before they would even be considered for a promotion. Too often they were fighting the stigma that women were weak and unsuited to combat leadership. Which meant when she was in a position of authority, she was especially dedicated to the cause and not to be trifled with.

Flint had yet to meet a corrupt woman Marine and this one was a vice-admiral. She was in her thirties which was young to already be a vice-admiral whether a man or a woman. And she didn't disappoint his expectations.

"You have been an especially busy man, Flint," stated the woman as she boarded with her men. Her blue eyes were as cold as steel and twice as sharp. Her blonde hair cut short to state her adherence to business and not flirtation. Her uniform was conservative in nature and revealed the least amount of skin. Something she probably had to do to be taken seriously. Her well-toned body pressed her very feminine curves into her clothes in a very pleasing manner. If she had allowed herself even a token amount of feminine luxury, the combination would have given Hancock a fair amount of competition, but no man within her command, and especially not her superiors, would have taken her for anything more than a sex icon.

"In the four months since I last boarded your vessel, you have robbed three trade ships, massacred five pirate crews and managed to dodge my compatriots after a five-hour chance. I'd admire your raw nerve for entering the fickle sea of the Alure if not for your well-known practice of skipping across the Calm Belt."

Flint smiled and shrugged before responding with a sigh, "Only five, Flint seems to be suffering a bit of a drought to be raining so little blood."

"That I can verify, villain, I know you probably took more," she said with a scowl as she came up beside him. "You have your orders," she called to her men without taking her eyes off Flint. "Whichever Blue you chose to haunt the pirate activity drops to less than half," she continued with him.

"Ye people should really think about paying him for the service," said Flint with a chuckle. When he had realized it was Desiree, he had warned his crew not to react to anything she said. That her accusations were mere fishing attempts. She knew nothing, she just assumed because she was highly intelligent and capable of more than simple math. However, he could see out of the corner of his eye that she was still unnerving the newer members of his crew.

Fortunately, because she believed he was Flint she was not taking chances. She kept her focus on him and her hand on her rapier. In a quick-draw competition he wasn't sure who would win. However, she did want to look at the rest of his ship, so she stepped back a few paces to be out of his reach before looking away. Oh course, she kept him in her periphery, so if he moved, she could respond before he could do more than step.

"I see new faces again. Can't you keep a decent crew for more than one voyage?"

Flint shrugged. "I only need ten to make this ship sail. Hired hands brought on for the labor or the security come and go like the tide." Flint kept his expression easy going but inside he felt a chill. The trouble with repeat commanders was that they did start to notice the high turnover of his crew. A barque had the ready-made excuse of not needing as many competent sailors as most trade ships, but sooner or later someone starts to realize he had too much turnover even for a barque. Desiree bounding over in less than four months would make the turnover even more obvious.

Desiree and he had been crossing paths for the last three years. At first, she had been as oblivious as all the other commanders, but she eventually had grown suspicious. For some ships, that suspicion alone would have been enough to prompt a more rigorous inspection. His ship would have been impounded and Marine shipwrights would have swarmed her while he and his crew were detained. Such action would have outed him immediately, but he had chosen the Duchy of Kels to be the Andrea's patron.

The Duchy of Kels was one of the most influential kingdoms in East Blue and, consequently, the World Government. They were also one of the biggest trade nations in the East Blue and, by extension, one of the biggest smuggling nations in the East Blue. They got their wealth from all forms of trade and they didn't take kindly to the Marines messing with their vessels. So, they, along with other large trade nations, and the World Government came to an agreement, known as the Trade Accords, that prevented the Marines from taking drastic action against vessels belonging to the members of the Accords without evidence of law breaking.

Desiree couldn't do anything to him, not as long as he was careful in how he responded to her accusations. Oh, she was clever about her attempts to trick him into confessing, which would grant her the evidence needed to impound his vessel. The first time she pointblank called him Flint, he and his crew had very nearly blown it. She had said it with such confidence, as if it were a by-gone fact, that he had believed he'd been outed. And she had shown up with two ships that first time as well. Two ships were more than he could handle.

The only thing that had saved them all that day was Rasputan. Standing a ways behind her, puffing his pipe as if there wasn't a care in the world. He had met the captain's eyes, glanced at Desiree, then shook his head. A bluff. Flint had recovered, acting startled and requiring clarification which covered the long pause. He still remembered the disappointment that had filled her face. It still made Flint break out in a cold sweat to remember that day, it was the closest he had ever come to having his cover blown. Women Marines were truly terrifying creatures.

Ever since then she always boarded his ship while addressing him as Flint. Flint just took it in stride and now it seemed more like good natured ribbing than a serious accusation. However, he was certain Desiree was waiting for the moment he slipped and said something in response that would out him as Flint. He found himself adoring Desiree and hoped she never succeeded in outing him. Otherwise he would have to kill her, and he didn't want to do that.

It seemed to him Desiree was in the middle of a new scheme to get him. Jumping him four months after her last personal inspection and noting the new faces felt like a change in tactics.

"You have little ones onboard. They don't seem like hired help."

Desiree zeroed in on the cabin boys. That was something that would catch her attention. He never before had anyone younger than twenty-five on his ship. Now he had these two. When she had boarded before, he had Jason hidden within the lower hold. He had been too fresh from his murders and Flint needed time to determine if a warrant had gone out for him. A few discrete inquiries had revealed that if it had it had never left Jason's home island. Probably to spare his merchant father bad business.

Jason and Ace stood near the stairs leading to the helm. Jason shifted under the scrutiny and looked away. Ace stared back in his usual sour mood. He leaned back in a "devil may care" manner only to twitch when his back hit the wall of the ship's castle. He was still tender back there from last week's whipping. He tried to cover the mistake by not moving away from the wall, but his paling face betrayed how much it hurt to stay leaning against it. Points for trying, though.

Desiree frowned then shifted back another step before stepping around to move closer to the boys. She exposed her back to Flint, a dangerous mood even with the added space, but the captain spotted her assistant, a burly chested Marine standing a yard away with his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on Flint. Flint smiled at him then turned to regard Desiree as she approached the boys. She had it covered.

"Hello boys, I'm Vice-Admiral Desiree. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said with a winning smile and a warm tone. That smile lit up her face and made her the most stunning creature Flint had ever seen. Another sacrifice in the name of ascension. She had been born a goddess of beauty yet had to sacrifice all her charms in order to be the Marine she dreamed of being. Flint found a new appreciation for her ambition and resolve. It just made her that more dangerous.

Then he realized what she had just done when the boys responded to her warm greeting. Flint couldn't do anything to catch their attention without calling attention to himself, the two were completely blinded by her radiance.

"The pleasure is all mine. I'm Edmiston Jason of Grellan, Ma'am," said Jason with a small bow. Flint flinched at how easily the timid young man revealed critical information about himself. He had been completely disarmed by the vice-admiral's smile.

"Jason," acknowledged Desiree, still beaming that brilliant smile that should have been classified as a weapon of mass destruction. She turned to Ace who, God help him, was actually blushing, his eyes wide, mouth agape. She cocked her head to the side but never stopped smiling at him. Evil woman.

Ace stood up straight, removing his aching shoulders from the wall, which he seemed to have forgotten were supposed to be hurting. "Uh… Ma'am… Uh… How the hell are you?" Desiree looked startled and Ace clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes growing even wider as every bare inch of skin turned redder than a beet. Everyone, Marines and Pirates alike, stared at Ace. Flint raised an eyebrow but just managed to keep his face straight.

"I… I… I mean… Uh? Top of the fucking morning… Ah!" It hadn't seemed possible, but Ace got even redder, then he ducked down burying his face into his knees. Flint covered his mouth as an undignified snort escaped him. Ace pulled on his hair babbling, "What the fuck is wrong with me? I can do better than this! I was taught better than this! Makino drilled me for hours on proper manners, what the hell!"

"Ace, just repeat what I said," hissed Jason, since the vice-admiral was still waiting for Ace to introduce himself. Flint was grateful his hand was already on his face, because he would not have been able to abort the facepalm. That was going to be two sets of critical information being volunteered to her. At least with Ace there wasn't going to be a problem if she investigated him.

Ace snapped up to attention then gasped, "The pleasure is all mine! I'm Edmiston… Uh! NO! I'm Portgras D. Ace of Goa."

Desiree chuckled then placed a hand on Ace's shoulder. "Breathe, Ace. It may not be comforting to know but boys your age do generally become flustered when I speak with them. It's the strangest thing."

_Sure, it is_, thought Flint, certain she was fully aware the affect her smile had on people. And deployed it at will.

Ace turned red again and began babbling apologies. All of which was highly amusing to Flint and no doubt would be mocked by the rest of the crew once Desiree left. However, he grew concerned when she turned to head back to him. While she favored Ace with another smile torpedo, she gave Jason a slightly colder look.

"If you boys ever tire of the tradesman life, come see me. I'm sure the Marines would love to have you." Though the offer was made to both, her eyes lingered on Ace. Ace looked down and away, a pained expression that had nothing to do with his sore back flashed across his face for a moment. Jason smiled and nodded appreciation.

"I could take you right now if you want," she added, her eyes fixed on Ace, and Flint's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't considered jumping ship if apprentices decided they wanted to join the Marines. They just had to march from the ship to a Naval base or take up an offer from an officer. Flint wouldn't be able to naysay it without starting a fight. He wasn't concerned about Jason, but Ace… "Cabin boys are not necessary for a ship, so it won't leave the good Captain in the lurch if you walked off with me at this moment. If that's your concern."

Ace glanced back up, appearing timid and uncertain, an odd look for the lad and just what Flint feared. He was considering it. Flint focused his whole attention on Ace, willing him to look at him, knowing if the young man didn't, he would likely agree to go with Desiree. Ace opened his mouth then glanced over the vice-admiral's shoulder and his black eyes met Flint's snapping green ones. Ace paled, closed his mouth and made a conscious effort to shake his head slowly.

"Thank you, but I'm fine, Vice-Admiral, Ma'am," he murmured as he looked down again, his voice still managed to crack despite his efforts to keep it low and controlled. Flint let out the breath he had been holding. If Ace had held his nerve, or at the least, not looked at Flint, it would have been all over for them. Flint's only concern now was Desiree who had to have picked up on Ace's sudden fright. It wasn't enough for her to act, though, so Flint dismissed it from his mind.

Flint smiled at the vice-admiral as she turned back toward him, and the inspection continued. There was still a problem, though. Her offer to Ace was sincere but not for Jason. Jason had been the one not to react the way she expected and, as Flint had told Ace at their last inspection, when people don't react the way Marines expect it makes them suspicious.

Flint thought at first the flustered Ace would betray them, but she hadn't said anything that would trick Ace into giving away the crew's true identity. It would have been so easy. When Ace was embarrassed, he dropped his guard, and he had a tendency to error on the side of honesty when confused. Not a virtuous trait when secrecy was the law of the ship.

He thought that was what she was trying for when she went over to them but instead, she had let the opportunity pass. Perhaps that was what she was planning to do until something else caught her attention. Something about Jason had roused her suspicion. He had not behaved the way she expected. Then there was the spontaneous job offer to Ace. Jason made her suspicious and she had tried to lure Ace off the ship. For a private interrogation or something else? Well it hadn't worked, and he was certain Ace wouldn't try to join the Marines again. So, he considered that matter closed.

Why did Jason have to reveal his home island? Flint didn't know if that information would cause trouble, given Jason's history. He would just have to cross that bridge when it appeared and not before. Acting in haste could tip his hand sooner if he wasn't careful.

Desiree returned to her position near him and her conversation became pleasant and less accusatory. It seemed she was no longer interested in trying to trick him into saying something incriminating. Flint played his role, like nothing was amiss. He would leave the pondering until after Desiree was gone. If he started thinking too hard now, he would be the one to give away the game.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Vice-Admiral Desiree's ship pulled away from the Andrea, once again unsuccessful in exposing her. She bit her lip as she watched the disguised pirate ship vanish into the distance. She never felt so frustrated and anxious as she did right then.

"I thought you were planning to wheedle information out of the boys," said her personal assistant, Hendrickson.

She grunted as she continued to stare at the ship wishing for a way to take it right then and knowing it wasn't possible. She understood the politics that tied her hands and didn't begrudge it. One pirate ship wasn't worth a war, but it was still frustrating. Especially now.

"Begin discreet inquiries for Edmiston Jason of Grellan and Portgras D. Ace of Goa at those respective islands," she said. "I want their history."

"Right away, Ma'am," said Hendrickson with a salute. "I'll make arrangements as soon as we reach the base."

"I willing to bet Jason has a damning record while Ace has just the typical street urchin rap."

"Ma'am?"

She turned to look her assistant in the eye. "Jason is well mannered and just a little too detached. I triggered only his polite response but he kept his head for the most part. He has much experience in the art of introductions, though hardly appropriate for a pirate ship practicing secrecy. He gave away too much about himself.

"Ace, on the other hand, lacks that experience. He is rough in mouth even when he means to be polite and just a little too honest. A straightforward child and relatively innocent. He acts tough but is actually vulnerable."

"I see, Ma'am." Hendrickson sounded like he was just taking her word for it. Well, she was the one experienced in the effects of her smile. She knew how to read people by their reactions. She may not have gotten everything correct in her assessment, but she was certain of one thing.

Ace needed rescuing. She had seen him flinch when he leaned against the wall, he was being hurt. Then he had been tongue-tied when he spoke, sincere and just a little sweet. Protective instincts had roared, and she had wanted to pull him off that ship right then and there. That was why she had made the offer. But the poor boy had glanced at his captain just as he was about to answer and had gone white as ghost. No doubt, Flint had given a look that had promised murder should he accept her offer. She had probably just gotten Ace in huge trouble. Damn!

_Just be strong, Ace, I will get you away from the madman_, she thought. _I promise_. Her eyes narrowed, _And I bet Jason will be the weak point in Flint's armor_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Desiree came into being as a character that was smart enough to spot Flint's game but was held back by the politics Flint was taking advantage of. It allowed for further exploration of the world.

ddh6gol Remove spaces to see picture of Desiree.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	17. Syren

Chapter 17: Syren

Ace tended to the cannon with a crewman called Sculley. The man had a scruffy salt and pepper beard with matching thick hair on his head tied back with a blue bandana, sunburnt leather skin, an eye patch over his right eye and half his teeth missing. Ace thought he was in his fifties, but he claimed to be younger. He wasn't much of a fighter and carried no personal weapon. However, he knew how to fire a cannon with stunning accuracy and accepted the risks of being on Flint's ship to staying on shore where he was mostly picked on since he was past his prime.

Sculley was newer to the crew than Ace, having joined only two weeks ago, which meant he wasn't predisposed to spitting on the young man like much of the rest of the crew. Hence why the two were working together now. No one else would work with Ace.

Sculley grinned as his shots hit and gave pointers to Ace on how to improve his aim when Ace took his turn. They were trading off shooting. Sculley felt the young man would never improve if he did all the work for him even if they were in a battle and should have been focusing on hitting their target. Ace made enormous efforts to follow Sculley's lead and not waste his time. It was still obvious when Ace was doing the shooting.

Sculley's shots struck the enemy vessel with deadly precision, sending wood and sometimes men, mostly pieces of men, flying into the air. Ace's shots sometimes hit the hull. That should have been good enough except pirates who specialized in raiding ships often reinforced their sides for this very reason. The rest of the crew wasn't having much better luck with their shots. Sculley was the only one who was making a literal impact on the enemy caravel. He was shooting where others hit, striking the weakened sidings in order to do more harm. He really should have been the only one aiming their cannon or perhaps he was using the extra time to spot his next target.

Ace was aiming his next shot when, Sculley suddenly shoved him back. Ace sprawled on the deck and a second later his and Sculley's cannon exploded. The cradle shot back, and the ropes snapped taught, but the cannon, the metal barrel, tore free, its mouth broken, and the barrel cracked halfway down.

And it was loaded and primed to fire.

"COVER!" Ace shouted. The word had been drilled into him as the what-to-shout-in-the-event-a-loaded-cannon-broke-lose. Men ceased their firing and dove behind their cradles, the only shelter they had available to them.

The barrel came down and erupted. The gunpowder within lit up sending the trapped cannonball through the compromised remnants of the barrel. Metal shards flew in all directions and tore through the one man who had never taken his drills to heart. Otis, the meathead, became hamburger as the shrapnel sliced chucks and the heavily damaged cannonball maintained enough force to blow his head clean off. Ace swallowed bile as flesh and organs splatted to the deck then turned to check on Sculley.

The man had seen the danger and shoved Ace clear. Unfortunately, that action had cost him the time he needed to get clear himself. He sat sprawled against the neighboring cannon and its stunned cannoneer. His eye was open but sightless. Blood was in his ears, nose and rimmed his eyes. The fact that it wasn't dribbling meant he had no pulse. The shockwave from the initial impact of the enemy cannonball against their cannon had shattered the front of his skull and turned his brain to mush.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Flint fumed at the discovery that his newly acquired cannoneer was dead. The man was a hard to come by talent, one Flint had been looking forward to having onboard for another decade.

Otis, on the other hand, was mourned by no one. Dismissed as a fool who paid the price for his cavalier attitude toward Flint's all-important drills. An example of why those drills were so important.

The attacking pirates came aboard, thinking things were going their way. In reality, Flint was letting them come instead of continuing to drive them off. Losing Sculley had ticked him off enough to lure them in. Once aboard the men would never leave alive. A trade ship could successfully drive away pirates but once they clashed swords, the pirates would realize who they were facing and then their fate would be sealed. Those men were going to die horribly.

Ace grabbed a mop that was sitting on deck, abandoned when the attack began, and prepared to meet the invaders. Fists just didn't cut it when the opponents were armed with swords and clubs. It was still a pathetic choice in weaponry. The fight was even more pathetic. It seemed these pirates were used to easy prey and should have sailed away the moment the ship fought back. The men came aboard as if expecting a surrender and got a face full of swords instead.

When Flint confronted their arrogant Captain, he introduced himself as he drew his blade. The man lost all courage and blubbered his way into his own surrender. Idiot. Flint demanded surrender without any fighting if he was to grant clemency. Their attack had forfeited that one mercy. They should have fought to the bitter end. At least then their lived would have ended quickly and with little suffering.

Among the captured pirates, that were the usual assortment of scarred and tattooed thugs, was a woman. Her black hair was short and stood up, more aligned with a man's cut, and kept in place by a red bandana tied across her forehead. A leather choker circled her neck and a blue breast band kept her modest chest covered and in place. Brown leggings hung low on her waste with a leather belt barely keeping them above her pelvis. An emerald ring adorned her exposed bellybutton and matched the ones in her nose and left eyebrow. The right sleeve of the leggings was cut off just below the crotch, exposing the tattoo of the most evil looking mermaid Ace had ever seen. The left legging extended to her brown ankle boots. Green eyes glared fearless at Flint's crew, who were already arm wrestling for the privilege of bedding her first.

Ace felt sick inside. Even though it looked like she would give anyone who tried to mount her a ride that would leave them crippled in the worst way, she was still about to be gang raped by these sadistic wretches. Ace glared at her Captain that continued to plead for mercy. How could he bring a woman onto his crew if he didn't have the resolve to protect her from this very outcome at all cost? A man merely died in these pirate battles, but a woman would suffer so much worse if her crew lost.

Then the captain revealed the depths of his selfish cowardice. He offered to not only hand over all their cargo, money and weapons to Flint if he let them go. He also offered up his female subordinate.

"She's the one that shot your cannon out. It was all her doing!" he cried as he pointed at her with a trembling, accusing finger. As if their predicament was all her fault.

The Headhunters paused in their wrestling tournament to appreciate her in a whole new light. Not that would spare her when the time came for their fun.

The woman spat at her Captain and snapped, "Coward! All I did was my job! You sobbing baby of a nobleman's bastard!" Several other Windigo pirates echoed her contempt and shouted their own colorful and inventive alternatives for sell out.

The captain punched her in the cheek snarling, "You're the one that pissed off Flint with your shooting. You owe him a debt, woman!" Ace felt a cold desire to set the disgusting man ablaze.

Flint must have had similar feelings. He pulled out his gun and shot the men who protested their captain's actions. To the ignorant he was silencing their protests. To Ace and the Headhunters, he was granting mercy. They had remained loyal to their crewmate even in the face of certain death. Flint could respect that.

"I need a new cannoneer, so I will keep the girl, but ye are a fool if ye thought ye could negotiate with me when I already possess everything ye offered."

"Captain, a girl on the ship is going to cause problems with the crew," protested Jaeger.

"There's always problems with the crew. Just deal with it like ye always do," said Flint as he grabbed the woman by the arm, raising her to her feet. "Take the captain and put his back to the mast. He'll be last. He needs to see what poor judgement and cowardice cost a man who thought himself worthy of the captain's chair."

Ace took that as his cue to seek shelter. Jason was already sneaking away. It looked like the woman wasn't going to be abused today but the surviving crew would soon be singing their lamentations. Ace did not want to witness anymore of this crew's sadistic pleasures.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Syren arrived to create a crisis for Ace and provides the second longest arc in the story next to Murkwood itself. She underwent a few changes in backstory before settling on her current form. She is actually much older than Ace and very world wise even if only of its darkest places.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	18. The Iron Wood Staff

**TRIGGER WARNING**: The following chapter contains a sexual assault event. While the assault is stopped, some readers may find the lead up disturbing or triggering. Reader Discretion is advised.

Chapter 18: The Iron Wood Staff

"Ace."

The deep baritone belonged to the tall, lanky Rasputan. He strode up to where Ace was perched on the stairs leading to the helm. It had become his place to study once his chores were finished. Ace had to share his sleeping area with five others, and they didn't appreciate it when he had to study, to put it mildly.

Ace had then taken to getting up early, before anyone else, and starting on his daily chores. He usually finished by midafternoon, leaving him free until dinner to do his mandatory scholar assignments from Flint. After dinner, Flint dragged Ace into his cabin for lessons. Once they were finished, Ace would collapse into his hammock to start the routine all over again hours later.

Jaeger left Ace alone since the young man was getting his chores done, even if it was on a slightly different schedule. As long as he didn't disturb the crew with his unique schedule, the bosun didn't care when he did them. Only once had someone bothered Ace while he was studying. The man had mocked him and snatched the book from his hands, threatening to throw it overboard. Ace had briefly panicked at the thought of losing one of Flint's books, certain he would be blamed and punished for the loss. Jaeger had snatched the book back and lashed the harasser for interfering with another's assignments.

Ace looked up at Rasputan, grateful for the interruption. He thought his brain would melt if he had to keep reading but feared taking any break would just get him in trouble. He was walking a tightrope as it was since most of the crew didn't see the point of books and thought he was being lazy. If they saw him not studying, they'd pitch a fit. He still needed to get it done, he just needed a minute to let his brain cool.

"Yes, Rasputan?" said Ace.

"Put that aside for a moment, I can see the smoke pouring out your ears," said the Cossack.

Ace blushed, (was it that obvious?) then did as instructed, marking the page before closing the book. He stood up as he cradled it in his arm. It was not a good idea to leave anything on the deck unsupervised. Things had a tendency to disappear, especially if they were Ace's things.

"Come with me," said Rasputan as he turned and walked toward the bow. Ace followed. Once there, Ace paused to look at the vast expanse of ocean that lay before him. The wind whipped his ebony hair into his face and the deck bounced as the bow struck the rolling waves, but Ace held his place. He was used to the motion of the ship even where it rolled the most.

"Place your book in here so it stays safe, I know how the captain can get." Rasputan gestured to a small chest that was tied to the railing overlooking the main deck below. Ace did so, glad there was a safe place to put it without having to return to his hammock inside.

"Now, here." Ace barely caught what Rasputan tossed at him. It was a wooden staff, longer than he was tall, with the same feel and coloring as the ship. "It's cut from the same type of tree as the wood used on this ship," said Rasputan, confirming Ace's suspicion. "I crafted it to be even stronger, making it almost equal to an iron staff."

Ace examined the staff. It was heavy, his lead pipe hadn't weighed half as much as this. The sides were only slightly rough to aid in gripping but not enough to cause splinters to jam into his hands. He turned it over in his hand, spinning it slowly.

"In the last fight, you were pathetic. You landed not even a single hit due to all the dodging," said Rasputan. Ace's cheeks burned in embarrassment. It wasn't his fault. Everyone was armed and his mop was cut in half on the first blow. After that it was just his fists and anyone so incompetent that he could fight them with just his bare fists was cut down in the first five seconds by one of the others. Ace was learning there was a difference between fighting an opponent and defeating them.

"I talked with the captain," continued Rasputan. "Your temper gets you into fights and the crew is still hostile toward you, so handing you something pointy is out of the question. If you have a sword, the crew can claim self-defense when they run you through."

Ace swallowed. Many of the crew would do that. He was resented and envied by the other grunts.

"This is the compromise we decided on. The staff has no pointy end to offer acceptable lethal threat against others. Yet will allow you to do proper battle with enemies. And spare other mops decapitations." Ace went redder still. He had caught hell afterwards when it was discovered what had become of the mop. Jaeger had not been pleased.

Ace rolled his sore shoulders then eyed the tall man. It almost sounded like he had talked Flint into allowing him to have a weapon, even if it was a staff. Talking Flint into anything seemed like something no one could do, because it required arguing. If Flint hadn't made his mind up on something, someone else's opinion might sway him, but one did not talk Flint into doing something he had already decided against. Ace shook his head. Flint had probably been planning to change his stance on the subject after the last battle.

"Now I need to see if you can handle the staff. There is no point in giving it to you if you are just going to drop it at first impact." Rasputan pulled out another staff. Ace stared, his mouth agape.

Staff training? Seriously? On top of his chores and homework? Ace had welcomed the break, but he still needed to finish the chapter and write his report on it. Flint didn't take excuses for why his assignments weren't done. He only had until dinner to get it finished and he was a slow reader. He didn't have time to start a new training regimen. Never mind the surprise change to his routine screwing his ability to get today's assignment done. If this was the new routine, he was going to need to adjust the timing for everything else in order to finish everything on time.

And he was down to six hours of sleep as it was.

The only reason he managed to get through Flint's evening lessons without falling asleep was because he chugged three cups of that disgusting, bitter liquid called coffee that the rest of the crew swore by. It did keep him awake and alert for the lessons, but he lived for the day he could stop drinking the nasty stuff. If he lost anymore sleeping hours, he would have to be swallowing it by midafternoon just to make it to dinner.

"What's the problem?" asked Rasputan, oblivious to Ace's woes.

Ace was caught between the desire to bellow the problem while hurling the staff at his newest tormentor and the instinct that Rasputan really didn't care and would just throw it back at him. Shouting on the main deck caught both men's attention.

While the rest of the crew watched, three men had pinned the woman, Syren, against the railing. Two held her in place while one pulled down her pants. He then gave her bare bottom a hard slap and laughed. Syren tried to kick but her pants tangled around knees and arrested the motion. The man laughed again as he slapped her a second time.

Rasputan muttered a few unknown words that didn't sound the least bit charitable. Ace went white with rage. The scene was almost exactly the same as when Sanders attacked him. Radiating fury, Ace rushed toward the would-be rapists.

"Ace!" shouted Rasputan but he was too late.

"LET HER GO!" roared Ace as he flew at the trio. The men looked over just as Ace brought his staff down on the man who had been slapping Syren. It hit his shoulder with a sickening crunch. The man stumbled back with a howl. Ace turned around and jammed the first man restraining the woman with the butt of the staff. The man lost his breath and released Syren as he tumbled backwards. Ace swung it sideways and smashed the second in the teeth.

Syren stood up and casually pulled her pants up, like nothing was going on. She seemed neither relieved nor angry. She just watched the exchange with a neutral expression, as if studying the men.

Ace had no time to worry about her as the first man he struck came at him with a roar. Either the man was super tough, or Ace hadn't hit him as hard as he first thought. The one with busted teeth wasn't getting up but the other had recovered his wind and was rising.

Ace side-stepped and brought the lower end of the staff up, striking the man's abdomen and causing him to double over. The second tried to draw his sword. Ace swung the other end in a wide arc that ended with the man's arm. This time, he saw the upper arm bend where it shouldn't, and the man abandoned his sword in favor of holding his broken arm and staggered away crying. The first was coming at him again.

Ace back swung the staff and the butt struck his head. The man spat blood and staggered. Ace prepared to swing again when his staff's motion was arrested.

"Ace…"

Ace froze. He knew that tenor. He looked behind him and there stood Flint, his right hand holding the end of his staff, preventing it from moving, his expression thunderous.

"Captain, that bastard cur attacked as for no reason," stated the man, Ace had been about to bean a fourth time.

"Ye were attacking Syren, scunner!" Ace shouted, his rage overriding his fear. Ace heard Rasputan stifle a laugh. Silver, who was sitting back with the other observers, snorted and Quillan, who had emerged from his cabin, where he kept the books on the ship's finances, to see what the fuss was about, sniffed in disapproval. The rest of the crew looked as if they were trying to determine if he had just insulted the man or just misremembered his name. Flint was silent.

The reaction was so bizarre that Ace lost some of his anger as he went over what he had just said. He had called the man "scunner". That wasn't his name, Ace didn't know it, the man was too new, but Ace had felt compelled to call him something, and he had heard Flint say the word often when referencing the grunts of the crew when he was in sour mood. Ace had been referred to as "numpty" when he messed up his assignments or "nugget" if Flint's mood was particularly foul.

Flint took a deep breath. "Ace. I let ye have a weapon and not ten minutes after receiving it, ye're picking fights with the rest of the crew."

"They were attacking Syren," said Ace, turning to face Flint. A mistake. It was harder to stand up to Flint with his green eyes boring into his black ones. Ace clung to his staff even as Flint kept his grip on it. There was no tugging or pulling involved, just neither man would let go.

"James?" Flint called, not taking his eyes off Ace.

"We were just having a little fun, Captain," the man said, starting to pout. "She didn't mind it."

"I volunteered for nothing," countered Syren, speaking up for the first time. "It's just that your rule keeps me from blowing off heads when accosted. I'm a sniper, I can't just smack them away from me."

James sneered at her. "You're just a slut in need of a good-"

"My rule is ye can't kill another crew member or render him unable to fulfill his duties," said Flint looking at the two, interrupting James's statement. Syren arched an eyebrow while James stared bewildered at Flint. Flint grinned. "Ye're free to decide what to blow off as long as it doesn't prevent him from serving on this ship."

"Hoh!" Syren giggled like a little girl. James looked confused for a few more seconds until he saw other crewmen turn white and change their seating position or stance. Then he turned red with rage as it dawned on him what Flint would allow.

"Captain!" sputtered the man.

"She's a talent. Ye're a beri a dozen. Which do ye think I value more?" Flint said. James coughed and sputtered but said nothing more.

Ace was not happy. Flint wasn't telling the crew to leave her alone, as had been done with him. He was just saying she had a way to defend herself that he accepted. If she couldn't, the same thing would happen all over again and Flint was just going to allow it. This shouldn't have shocked him, why was this such a bitter disappointment?

Ace's fury was quelled when Flint released the staff to grab the back of his neck and said, "Now, about yer report…"

Ace blanched and squeaked, "I still have until dinner!" He hugged his staff to him less his shock give Flint an opportunity to snatch it away. This was the first time he had overpowered any of the crew; no way was he giving up his staff. But why was Flint demanding his report now when he still had an hour and half 'til dinner? Was this his punishment for attacking the crew?

"Not anymore, ye dinnae. Rasputan is going to be spending this time teaching ye how to master the staff. Though it looks like he can skip the beginner's course, since ye were able to handle it so well already. So, ye might as well hand over the report since I'm here."

"No one warned me about the change to my schedule," hissed Ace. If that was how it was going to be then he'd make the adjustment in timing tomorrow, but he needed to be given the time to finish today's assignment since this had been suddenly sprung on him.

"Are ye telling me that two hours of uninterrupted study time was not enough to finish one little chapter and the report for it?" asked Flint.

Ace grimaced and said in the smallest voice he had ever uttered in his life, "It's not ready."

Flint didn't care and gave Ace double the punishment for failing to complete his assignment along with having to complete it and another one for tomorrow night.

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I realized that Ace needed some kind of weapon, but it didn't make sense to arm him with something that he could use to threaten Flint or couldn't use well. Since he used lead pipes like a staff weapon, I decided he would be more familiar with staff use and the staff wasn't immediately dangerous. No pointy ends for obvious lethal threat. (Don't misunderstand. Staves are effective weapons and very lethal, they just don't radiate death like swords and guns do.)

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	19. Archigold's Mistake

Chapter 19: Archigold's Mistake

It was all out chaos on the Maiden's Sorrow.

"The vice-admiral was right," said the Marine Commander as he pressed against Flint's sword.

Flint held him off, but with one good leg, it was not easy. His strong right leg was slightly behind him to push him forward while his left arm and cane bore his weight. Not an ideal outcome to be in strength match with another swordsman. Flint preferred to cut his opponents down before they had a chance to defend themselves.

Commander Archigold had addressed Flint with his hand on his sword hilt, ready to draw at a moment's notice. It was abundantly clear to the pirate Captain that the Marine commander had some idea of what he was facing. Therefore, Flint had kept his hands away from his cutlass in attempt to avoid a battle. He always tried to avoid fights with Marines since they often kept good communication with their fellow ships. It wasn't that he feared there were nearby battleships but that a Marine could send out word about what they discovered before Flint could silence them. Flint rather not have his game exposed; he liked his "ghost ship" reputation. People were more inclined to surrender without fighting when they thought he was supernatural.

"The vice-admiral mentioned her suspicions as well as her frustrations with you countless times. I knew if I were the one to approach you with her tricks you would be unprepared."

Well, that answered that question. Flint grimaced and said, "But ye didnae plan the end game as well as she. Ye're going to lose all yer men because ye didnae consider the consequences of outing me."

"It will still be the vice-admiral's victory," grunted Archigold as he tried to overpower the crippled the man. He must not have expected this level of resistance when he planned this. He wasn't even trying to use any techniques other than brute strength on Flint. Or he respected Flint's speed and felt he needed to keep the Pirate Captain pinned if he wanted to have a chance of victory. This might have been a good plan if he had had the thought to have one of his subordinates near to stab Flint in the back when they locked blades. Maybe Archigold had thought he could beat Flint to the draw?

"Once the word gets back to headquarters about your trick," huffed the commander, "there won't be a place you can run."

"Ye know my alias not my trick, Commander," said Flint even as he broke out into a cold sweat. Someone was aboard the Marine ship with a Den Den Mushi. That was what he feared with every Marine encounter and why he strived so hard to avoid a fight with them.

Archigold had come aboard his ship like it was a regular inspection but then addressed him as Flint like he knew for sure. He even went so far as to bluff about how he was there to take him into custody. Flint would only fall for that once no matter who played it a second time. Unfortunately, since this wasn't Desiree, he hadn't prepped his crew. Most held their tongues, having been exposed to Desiree just last month, but a new recruit did not.

The man's stuttered, "How'd you know?" was all Archigold needed and the fight began in full. Flint wasn't concerned about winning, Archigold hadn't brought nearly enough men to pose a risk. The Maiden was too small to allow for large numbers and his men were used to fighting in tight quarters while the Marines practiced quantity versus quality.

Syren was aloft and picking off Marines that weren't yet partnered up, further reducing the Marine's chances of overwhelming them. Still all it would take was one Marine hold up in the main cabin with a Den Den Mushi reporting everything that was happening to make this fight in vain. Flint's men could hold their own on their ship, but they needed to invade the Marine's battleship if they wanted to stop the communication.

Flint caught sight of a flash of yellow and black flying across the gap between the ships. Ace. He had used the staff Rasputan had gifted him to vault onto the battleship. If Flint thought Ace was going to defect then and there to the Marines, it flitted out of his head before he was consciously aware of it. If that was Ace's intentions it hardly made a difference in their current situation, but if he was going after the communication officer…

Ace was a proficient staff wielder, but it would take too much time for him to beat down the opponents that remained aboard the Marine vessel. The real reason why he even had a staff was for self-defense not attack in these skirmishes, and to keep the crew from finding an excuse to kill him. Staves were not immediately lethal, it would take a lot of effort on Ace's part before someone would die from one, so the crew couldn't claim fear of life if they tried to assassinate him.

Shots rang out from above, Syren on the yard arm. Her aim had shifted to the deck of the battleship and the speed of her shots had picked up. She was already covering for Ace without Flint having to say anything. Rasputan had backed until he was near the base of the mast beneath her. The tall Cossack prevented any of the Marines from climbing after Syren, but he seemed distracted to Flint. Usually Rasputan would dual-wield but today he was only using one and it was in his left hand. His right hand was behind him and out of sight. Was he injured? Flint couldn't know from his place. He could only gather a general sense of the action around him even with his observational haki.

Archigold was still pressing against him, trying to overwhelm him with raw strength. Flint rotated his shoulders ever so slightly. The strain on his right shoulder increased as it began to bear more of the force of Archigold's press. It was a high risk move he was planning. If he failed, he would die, but if he succeeded, the Marines would fall apart. With no idea how close reinforcements were, Flint needed to end this so his ship could retreat as soon as possible.

Flint jerked his shoulder back flinging the blade to the side as he released it. Archigold stumbled forward. Flint rotated on his cane, his good foot leaving the deck as he spun out of the Marine commander's way. His now empty right hand reached into his coat and drew his pistol. His right foot landed and rooted, halting his spin. He aimed and fired into the back of the commander's head. The man was dead before he hit the deck.

Just as he predicted, several Marines who witnessed their commander's fall cried out in horror, exposing themselves to their opponents, who swiftly cut them down. Their cries distracted the rest and the battle came to an end.

"Get them off the ship," said Flint, trying to control his breathing. It wouldn't do to look winded. "Clean up any survivors and someone retrieve Ace. I saw him jump aboard."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ace tried not to think about the shots echoing behind him as he barreled his way through the Marines. When he went out to sea, he had never thought hard about the inevitable conflict between the Marines and him. Aboard Flint's ship he still hadn't thought about it. Flint handled the Marines so well that they had never had to fight before. Their only battles were with other pirates.

Now they had been exposed, the reality was that all these men had to die, and it still wouldn't be enough. Ace had realized the danger of a communication officer posed to the Maiden. He had seen a few Marines race back toward the battleship's castle when the fighting started. Syren had gotten onto the yardarm within seconds and began shooting, still someone had made it through the door.

The brawl was in full swing and Ace had nimbly dodged bodies and swords before vaulting onto the battleship. More Marines waited but being outnumbered was nothing new to Ace. He used his staff to knock down and drive aside the men. In these types of fights the trick was not to get stuck in one place, he had to keep moving. He expected to be hit from behind by the Marines he had passed but it never occurred. He didn't look back, instead focusing on the door to the main cabin and trusting Syren to watch his back.

Clear of the Marines, he braced his shoulder to ram the door. He slammed into the heavy oak, grunting from effort and the pain of impact. The door held for a moment then the frame cracked, and it flew open, the bolt losing its backing. It hadn't been barred; it would have been more effective in holding him off.

He stumbled in, just managing to remain standing. The cabin was the room and office of the Marine Commander, judging from the nice desk and bookshelves that dominated it with another door leading most likely to a private bedroom. By the desk stood a Marine with the Den Den Mushi. The Marine held the receiver but stared at Ace, frozen in terror. Ace felt his stomach drop in return.

A woman. She was young, too. Probably fresh out of the academy.

Ace felt nothing but contempt for the Marine Commander. Vice-Admiral Desiree had come with two ships when she inspected Flint's ship, expecting trouble and being prepared should she finally out him. This commander hadn't even thought about the consequences to his subordinates, particularly his female subordinates. Did he not realize what Flint's crew did to women?

Ace slammed his staff down upon the desk, crushing the Den Den Mushi. The Marine jumped to the side with a shriek. Ace glanced at the windows, then, cursing the fates the whole time, swung the staff with all his might at the young woman. The staff swished through the air and collided with her temple, her left eye bursting from the impact. She went down without a sound, as if she had been shot.

Swallowing bile, Ace rushed to her side, planning to throw the unconscious Marine out the window. She would drown quickly, not feeling the water filling her lungs. It was the only mercy he could grant her. The alternative was for her to become the crew's plaything for however long they could keep her.

Ace knelt to pick her up then froze. Her remaining eye was half open and sightless. He put his hand against her mouth and nose seeking breath. Nothing. He placed two fingers against her neck. There was no pulse. His blow had killed her instantly.

Ace swallowed again then closed her eye. He found a handkerchief on the desk and placed it over her face. He glanced at the remains of the crushed Den Den Mushi. His mind flashed to the memory of the woman standing in front of it. Had it been asleep? Had she not been able to get through to the vice-admiral or headquarters? He hated Flint's devil luck so much at that moment.

Ace turned to head back out. He knees shook and his stomach churned. The world spinning before his vision. Maybe it would have been wiser for him to wait there. The way he felt, he would only be easy prey for the remaining Marines. Ace didn't care. It would only be right for a murderer like him to die by Marine hands.

He staggered out of the main cabin into the sun. His stomach rolled and he dropped his staff as he stumbled toward the railing. He vomited over the side, his stomach contracting in painful heaves that sent shudders through his whole body. He couldn't stand it! He didn't want to kill anyone anymore!

"Ace!"

Ace looked up; the world tilted but no longer spun in his vision. Austin stood there with two others, one of whom was the hated James. Ace wished the crack he had given James had accidentally killed him. The vile man had lost a lot of respect after Ace nearly won their fight. Of course, James hated Ace with a passion now and sneered at him, his eyes alight with sadistic glee over Ace's current wretched state. Ace could say nothing, another wave of nausea forced him to look away as more bile rose.

"Not so tough now, you little shit," mocked James as he grabbed Ace by his hair. "The captain isn't here to cover your back like before. Let's see how well you fight without your walking stick."

James released Ace's hair and turned toward the abandoned staff lying on the deck a yard away. Ace struggled to rise as nausea threatened to double him again. Why did it have to be James that came after him? The other man stood watching the whole thing like it was theatre. Austin was nowhere to be seen. James reached down to pick up the staff then hissed and dropped it.

"What the fuck?!" said James and he tried again with the same result. This time Ace could see the hateful man's hand spasm when he touched the staff and was there a flash of light? The staff fell to the deck again but this time it rolled until it touched Ace's shoe.

Ace wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his stomach still felt queasy, but the heaving had stopped. He reached down and picked up the staff without issue. Whatever James's problem had been it didn't affect Ace. He pulled himself to his feet, still feeling weak but his vision had righted and the quivering in his knees was gone. He still felt like hell.

Austin emerged from the cabin. Casting a suspicious look at James, he came over to Ace.

"Good job, Ace," he said, clapping the young man on the shoulder. "Do you know if she was able to alert the other Marines?"

Ace shook his head. "I don't know. She had the time, but… I was too focused on trying to stop the call to notice if there was someone on the other side." He spoke the words in a hushed voice. He didn't have the energy nor the desire to speak any louder. Austin didn't seem to care.

"That's all we can ask of you," he replied, patting him on the shoulder. It was strange to receive praise from Austin. Ace wished Austin wouldn't praise him, it was making him feel sick again.

James sneered again but said nothing. Austin took Ace's arm and led him toward the gangway that linked the two ships. Marine bodies were being dumped unceremoniously back on the battleship. The fight was over.

Flint stood near the end of the gangway onboard the Maiden, looking calm and composed despite the battle he was just in. Last Ace had seen the man he had been sword locked with the Marine Commander and straining to hold his footing. Ace glowered at him, wishing the commander had been successful. His stomach rolled again but nothing came up.

Flint looked at them as they returned to the ship. "Austin?"

"Ace did good, but there's no telling if a call made it through, though," replied Austin.

"Tsk! Though, he's puking his guts out like a fucking coward," said James.

Before anything else could be said, Jaeger's long ox whip flew through the air and cracked against James's back. James yelp and leapt away.

"What the hell was that for? Are you all soft on that cur?" he snapped.

"I didn't see you jump onto a battleship full of Marines," said Jaeger. "A coward will flinch from such tasks. He did his job without hesitation; he can puke all he wants."

James turned purple with rage.

Flint had had enough. "One more word, James, and ye'll go to the mast." He then turned to the rest of the crew. "Finish unloading the dead. We sail immediately. All of ye will be cleaning, repainting and repairing the deck. I dinnae want any signs left of this fight within the hour."

Ace turned to join the rest of the crew in clean up. Jaeger stopped him.

"Not you, Ace. Clean yourself off and get to bed. I want you back out here at dawn."

Ace looked at the midafternoon sun and then back at the bosun in disbelief. He was being given the rest of the day off? Ace didn't want that. He wanted to work, he wanted to clean, he wanted to do anything that would distract him from what he had just done. Instead he was being rewarded with rest and solitude and even defense. His stomach twisted again.

"Move, boy, don't make me tell you twice!" snapped Jaeger gesturing with his coiled whip.

Flint said nothing.

Ace swayed and walked away, doing as ordered. He grabbed Aaron's pendant as he entered the dark, cool interior of the crew cabins, catching a glimpse of murdered man consoling the freshly dead woman Marine. The vision was gone in an instant.

He really hated this crew.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So, what do ye think?" Flint asked of Rasputan as the rest of the crew got to work. The captain had always noticed that the Cossack seemed to be aware of more things during battle than he. However he managed it, Rasputan's observational haki was better than his. Flint knew there were those who could glimpse the future with advanced haki, he just didn't know how well it worked. He also didn't know if Rasputan had it, but his ability to detect what was happening out of sight when the man bothered to look was beyond Flint's own.

It would explain Rasputan's distracted state during the battle. If he were trying to see something far away, he wouldn't have been able to give as much attention to what was in front of him. Given that, it was amazing he could fight so well left-handed while distracted.

Rasputan looked down at his right hand. A knotted weave with five loops for fingers rested in his palm. Flint arched an eyebrow but made no comment on the strange little thing as he waited for an answer.

"It didn't go through," stated Rasputan. "I feel sorry for the girl. She was trying so hard to get her message across as her comrades were dying outside. I can't believe Archigold would bring a cadet with him on a suicide mission."

Flint snorted but relaxed at the report. Neither of them had gone aboard the ship, and while he had heard the communication officer was a woman, he hadn't realized how young she was. Confident in Rasputan's insight, he abandoned plans to leave the East Blue immediately. However, he would have to leave soon. The loss of Command Archigold was going to bring unwanted focus to this sea.

But not immediately.

"Are the bodies all onboard?" called Flint. When confirmation echoed back, he ordered, "Then light her up! On dinnae want this ship or her crew found ever!"

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I didn't originally plan for this chapter. It just sort of happened. The threat behind a Marine inspection going wrong is very real, too bad Rasputan had that covered.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	20. Syren's Plan

**TRIGGER WARNING**: The following chapter contains a sexual assault event. While the assault is stopped, some readers may find the lead up disturbing or triggering. Reader Discretion is advised.

Chapter 20: Syren's Plan

Ace knelt on his knees by the wash tub as he scrubbed the shirt against the washboard with more energy than usual. It was not from enthusiasm but pent up anger that drove him. He was glad to be alone. No one wanted to be in the boiler room with its furnace that kept the room sweltering hot at all hours. Ace didn't want to be there either, but it was his job to do the ship's laundry. Still, he was grateful for the solitude. He could cry all he wanted, and no one was there to mock him.

And crying he was. Not from the pain from the beating he had received that afternoon, though he hurt plenty, but from the humiliation, frustration and hopelessness of his situation.

He had tried to run. There had been no clever plan like before. He had just impulsively bolted for freedom.

Flint had allowed Ace to go ashore with him when he went to do business with his client. It was probably another learning experience where Ace would get to watch Flint handle his trade deals. Except as soon as they were mingling in the crowds of the busy market, Ace had bolted.

Ace wove through the crowds with the nimbleness of the street urchin he had been five months before. He had no plans to cause trouble for the city. He might even try his hand at a little honest work until he could secure enough supplies to make another go at the sea. Most likely he would head home, not because he was running, but because Luffy was there. If Flint was still around when Luffy set out…

Ace felt a burst of protective instincts towards his little brother. He could not allow what happened to him to happen to Luffy. He'd go home and stay there until his little brother was ready then he'd go out to sea with him. Luffy would probably hate him for it since it would interfere with his desire to be Pirate King, but he could become that at any time. Ace wouldn't get in his way. He just wanted to make sure Luffy was safely established before they separated. He just couldn't let his little brother be caught by Flint!

Luffy was safe at home for another three years, though. Ace could take his time in returning. He just needed to lie low for a little bit then head home. He could do that. He could totally not cause trouble for this port. He would be fine.

Unfortunately, for Ace, Flint had other ideas. Ace hadn't been wrong in thinking there was no way Flint or Quillan could chase after him. What he hadn't expected was the way Flint could recruit lawmen to do his dirty work. As soon as Ace had taken off, he had turned toward the nearest city guard and enlisted his and his friends' aid in retrieving his cabin boy.

Ace had fought back when he realized why the guards were there, but he was outnumbered seven to one and unarmed, he had been ordered to leave his staff on the ship. He gave the guards a few hard blows before they were able to subdue him and that just pissed them off. It wasn't until they returned to the ship that he realized why they hadn't beaten him right then and there. Flint had asked them to not harm him in any way that would put blood on the laundry Ace still had to do. So, they hadn't done anything after they caught him but oh how they wanted to.

The bosun was able to appease them not only with their promised reward but also the opportunity to deal Ace his punishment. The guardsmen had eagerly taken the strap and gotten to work beating his ass, since his ass wasn't needed to perform any of his chores. The bastards had taken turns and even forced Ace to apologize for being such an ungrateful brat to his very understanding and patient Captain.

Once they were finished, Jaeger had dragged Ace into Quarken's office for medical attention, he had been beaten that badly. The doctor had been irate over having to use his good supplies on a fool's well-deserved wounds. He treated Ace with the stingiest ointment he had available which made Ace feel all of his welts as if they were freshly given. Once that torture was finished, he was banished to the laundry room with no meals to be given until he finished cleaning, drying and mending all of the clothes. And the crew had hastened to dump every scrap of cloth they could find into the room. He would be lucky to be done by dinner tomorrow.

So, here he was with an ass that throbbed with every beat of his heart, knees that ached from bearing his weight for hours, feet that cramped from trying to relieve the pressure on his knees, a stomach so empty it was tying itself into knots and hands burning from the soap granules grating on it along with the sting of cracked nails and skinned knuckles. And he had torn five shirts due to the fury of his scrubbing. Five more shirts to be sewn back together on top of all the other rags they had managed to throw into this pile.

_Rip!_

Make that six.

Ace dropped the ruined shirt and fell back. Only to yelp when his abused backside met the floor and rolled over. He pounded on the floorboards just to hit something, ignoring his bleeding knuckles. He imagined the faces of the crew and began cursing them as he punched.

Ace had just reached Flint in his mind and was doing an exceptional amount of violence to the innocent floor that was now covered in his blood, sweat, spit and tears when a hand grabbed the wrist of his upraised fist.

Ace looked up and paled.

Flint stood there, calm and composed. Damn that trick cane! He looked at Ace's hand and Ace saw that he had done more damage than he realized. His knuckles were a bloody ruin and was that bone peeking through the mess? He hadn't felt the severity of the damage, the agony he was already in had dulled him to new hurts.

"How are ye supposed to wash the laundry with hands like that?" Flint asked.

Ace's rage boiled over and the next words flew out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying.

"FUCK YOU, FLINT!"

Flint cocked his head to the side, his expression unchanging. "Is that an invitation?"

Ace's heart skipped a beat. What did he just say?!

Before he could respond, Flint twisted Ace's arm, driving the young man to his feet then bent him back over. Ace felt his bruised ass collide with Flint's belt and he cried out in pain and terror.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" gasped Ace, his mind whirling in panic. _Not this! Anything but this! Hit me! Curse me! Throw more chores at me! Banish me from the mess hall but, please, not this!_

Flint said nothing as Ace sobbed beneath him. His free hand began to slide along Ace's spine and the young man trembled. When he reached Ace's neck, Flint untwisted Ace's arm and pulled the young man straight up. Ace didn't resist just continued to shudder with each choking breath. Flint slid his hand around Ace's neck, paused a moment to stroke the collar bone before slipping down his chest. He paused when his palm reached Ace's quivering abs.

"Hold yer tongue when angered and think twice before ye utter a single word," Flint whispered into Ace's ear, his tone as gentle as a lover's. "The next time ye tell me to fuck, I will."

"Yes, Captain," said Ace, his voice low and hoarse. "I understand. It won't happen again."

"Good." Flint pulled away, leaving Ace trembling where he stood.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Syren kept her presence hidden until Flint was gone, his shadow no longer visible beneath the door frame. She had been lingering in the shadows of the room for the past hour, observing Flint's pet, when the captain had strolled in like a wraith. She admired and envied his skill even as she had frozen in surprise. She reduced her breathing to the minimum as she pressed herself deeper into the shadows. The room was dim, and she had placed herself in a particularly dark area to aid her hiding. But with Flint there was no guarantee that would be enough.

Syren had acquired a rare skill that, in her opinion, was absolutely essential if one wanted to become an expert sniper. She knew of no name for it, but it was a variation of observational haki that allowed her presence to become one with environment, hiding her from casual observation. The perfect ability for one that specialized in long distance assassinations. However, if someone was looking for her, or her threat, specifically, or was just extra sensitive to their environment, the effect was reduced.

Fortunately, Flint had been too focused on his purpose there to notice her. She maintained her stillness while watching the brief interaction.

Syren felt nothing but mild amusement at Flint's mounting. It was a classic domination display, if tamer than the others she had seen carried out aboard other ships. A reminder by the big alpha of the omega's place in the pack and Ace was definitely the bottom rung pirate of the crew. The only reason more involved dominations by other members hadn't occurred before now was because of Flint's protection.

Syren understood the game well. James had been in the middle of such an activity with her when Ace had interfered on her behalf. It was such a strange thing for her to experience. She had had been saved on past ships by higher ranked crewmen who then turned around and wanted favors performed for their protection. Ace had rushed to her rescue with no such ill intentions. Poor sweet baby, so naïve, so innocent. She just had to study him to make sure he was real and not some phantasm. He really wasn't suited to being a pirate. She expected such behavior from Marine cadets before life ground their pretty little illusions to dust. Pirates shouldn't need such grinding.

Syren licked her lips, she could use that idealism. She knew from experience that idealist youths were much easier to manipulate than jaded men. She had thought of using James, let him play with her a bit, make him feel the big man, then convince him he was better than Flint. Once the mutiny started, she could sneak off the ship. She didn't expect James to win, she was actually counting on him losing, that would be her revenge on him. He would die knowing she had used and betrayed him. The idea still enticed her, but she preferred results to brilliant revenge schemes. Seducing young Ace seemed the better option to getting her off the ship.

Syren had no desire to stay on such a ship as this. She needed the freedom of being able to abandon a crew at a moment's notice and this ship didn't have that. Best to work on getting off now and spring when ready. Until then she would be the model subordinate. It was rather nice to have the option to blow the balls off of anyone who tried to mess with her. It was almost worth the price of freedom, but she suspected she only got that benefit because Flint was appeasing his little pet. He didn't want Ace picking fights every time the boys got rough with her. Ace was already an oddball on the ship and most of the crew disliked his privileged place. Increased fighting would only worsen his situation.

Leaving the ship was not going to be easy, though. Flint's use of the city guardsmen to reclaim Ace proved that any attempt that didn't involve a speedy exit from the port would end in failure. So, she would need a distraction and Ace was perfect for the job. He was a privileged individual, Flint's protégé. She could use that in her escape plan.

Syren had been observing Ace to figure out how to best approach him. She would only have one shot at winning him over. If she handled him wrong his guard would go up and she would be shoved to the same distance as the rest of the crew. She doubted she would get a second chance. He wasn't stupid, just naïve. She had considered fluffing his pride or seducing him, like she would other men, but he was only seventeen. If he wasn't showing sexual interest in her like the rest of the crew then he was still an unawakened virgin. She knew from experience that any seduction attempts of that nature would alarm him even if all his hormones were screaming for him to go for it. Mothering, however, didn't seem like the right course either _because_ he was seventeen. He would not appreciate being babied because, well, pride. What a difficult twilight he was in.

Flint's actions, though, gave her an opening.

Syren watched Ace tremble and hug himself then his hands began to slide and claw at his skin. She knew the feeling. It had been a tease but, to a virgin, it was more than enough. His cruel imagination was crafting scenes of what could have been. She knew the humiliation and the shame that followed such acts especially when they were carried out. The first few times were terrible but by the twelfth time one just rolled with it. At least that was how it worked with her. With that dreary thought in mind she figured out how to approach him.

She just had to be sympathetic.

Ace was alone on the ship with no one he could talk to. Even here, where he thought it safe to vent his frustration, he had been forcedly shut down. He was emotionally penned in on all sides and it was burning him inside. One sympathetic ear to hear his pain was all he needed.

And it wasn't too hard for her to fake. She did sympathize with him. Now how to express it so he accepted it. From observation he was a creature of pride. Only when he believed he was alone would he expose the level of vulnerability he now showed. If she was too sweet, he'd dismiss her as mocking him. Not sweet enough and he would dismiss her as another tormentor.

She mentally snapped a finger as she happened upon the perfect balance. Big sister. Big sisters could tell a little brother to man up but then turn around and coddle them. Tough but with the right amount of sweet with the added bonus of natural sibling authority that would shut a little brother down when he wanted to protest.

Decided, Syren stood slowly so as not to attract his attention and hefted her basket of stolen medicine onto her shoulder. She strode forward as if she had just arrived, a look of concern plastered onto her face.

Ace noticed her when she was two yards away. He looked at her in surprise with angry tears in his eyes before turning away, wiping his eyes roughly, embarrassed to be caught crying. His shoulders straightened and his hands pulled away from his arms.

"What do you want?" he gasped out in a hoarse voice, his bravado failing.

"Quarken sent me to redress your wounds, love," Syren lied, holding out the basket to show him the medicine. She pretended not to notice his cracking voice or smeared tears, it helped him save face and endeared him to her. He wouldn't feel so defensive if she were willing to play that nothing was the matter.

Ace turned his head to regard her with a frown. Syren just stared at him with a small smile of reassurance. If he called her bluff, her campaign would be all over. However, Ace's eyes flicked down for a moment and when they returned to her face, color had entered his cheeks. A good sign.

"I don't need it," he said and turned toward the wash basin.

"Come now! You think you're so special?" Syren said as she stepped between him and the laundry. She planted a fist on her hip. "Yours won't be the first ass I tended, and your hands look like they could use some attention, too, love. Perchance, so could your knees. They look swollen to me. And maybe your feet, as well." Ace stared at her, seeming lost on what to do next.

Big sister. A little verbal swat to mind his manners, a statement of fact and the impression that this was not a request. All packaged up in a box of I'm-here-to-help-you-not-mock-you. By the way he was looking at her, he recognized the attitude. Someone else had played big sister to him in the past. This just might make things easier if he's already been conditioned.

Syren crossed her legs and sat down on the ground, placing the basket next to her while he continued to stand, unmoving. She patted the planks and said, "Now drop your shorts and lay down so I can attend to you properly."

Ace could just step around her now and continue with his washing, but he was so beaten down that her simple commands, brimming in good intentions, compelled him to obey. He dropped his black shorts leaving his flaming boxers on, a compromise since he didn't want to go naked before her. His consideration for her gender was cute but misguided. However, the boxers looked easy to manipulate so she didn't push. If she got too insistent, she might lose her progress with him.

He laid down before her with his face buried in his arms. Syren took a moment to appreciate the piece of man flesh she had at her mercy. He was lean and toned, a delicious combination. She liked muscle on her men, but bulked-out dudes were a turn off. No wonder Flint hadn't been able to keep his hands off him, she wanted to feel him up too. Fortunately, she had an excellent excuse, she just had to restrain her eagerness. Attempting to seduce him right now would have the opposite affect she was looking for, but maybe later…?

_Focus_! She pulled the red-orange boxers down and let out a very honest whistle of sympathy. The guardsmen had not held back. Ace twitched but didn't look up, but his ears turned red. Syren took the cue and didn't say anything. He was humiliated enough as it was, any quips or sympathetic comments would just embarrass him more. Which was not what she was trying to do to him at the moment. Instead, she turned to her basket and pulled out the bruise ointment, the one that didn't sting but soothed. She rubbed it on her fingers then applied it to his ruined butt.

Syren worked it into his flesh at a torturously slow pace. She knew her touch hurt him right now but, done right, pain could be sensual. She eyed his shoulders as the muscle rippled beneath his skin in response and she could just hear his tiny gasps. She wasn't supposed to be seducing him but making him feel good would make him more amendable to her. Being he was a virgin seventeen-year-old boy, he wouldn't recognize what he was feeling except that he liked it, if she did it right. Flowers like these needed to be opened slowly

Ace wasn't an idiot and he wasn't just going to accept she could somehow not make it hurt as much. He raised his head, panting, and turned to look at her with suspicion. "What… what are you doing?"

Syren feigned innocence. "I'm sorry! Does it hurt?" She stopped as she spoke and removed her hands from his butt. The ointment had a chilling effect on the skin, even in the sweltering laundry room. Without her actively massaging his rear it would feel like it was growing cold. A good sensation for a bruised and battered ass but compared to what she had been doing before, it would be uncomfortable.

Ace didn't know what to say to that. She could tell by his uncomfortable look that "hurt" was not the word he would use to describe it.

"I was trying to be gentle, but the ointment is more effective when rubbed in so…" Syren shrugged helplessly. Her expression one of distress.

"Uh, no, no, it just felt… weird, that's all," replied Ace becoming embarrassed.

Syren switched her expression to confusion. "Weird? How? Can you tell me anymore, so I know how to adjust my rubbing?"

Ace turned away his face beginning to color. "No, no, it wasn't bad. It was just weird, but not bad. I don't know, just forget it."

Syren touched her confusion with helplessness, even though, Ace was no longer looking at her. Always have expressions in place when acting even if no one is looking, people could hear the difference in the voice. "I don't know how to continue, if it's bad…"

"Never mind me, just… just go ahead. I can handle it; it was just weird," he said, waving a hand over his shoulder as he buried his face into his arms again. His ears were several shades deeper red than before and the color was spreading into his neck.

Syren licked her dry lips. She so wanted to be his first! His reactions were just too adorable, too sweet! She just wanted to eat him up!

_Focus! _ "Okay, then, love, I'll start again. Just let me know if it gets to be too much," she sang.

"Please," came the muffled reply.

_With pleasure_, she thought with a smile. Syren refreshed the ointment on her fingers and set to work, giving Ace the most exquisite torture he had ever experienced in his life.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Flint stood on the bow and glowered at Rasputan. He could tell the man had something to say to him, the long oriental pipe he was puffing on said as much. The Cossack only drew on it when he wanted to speak with Flint in private. Whatever, he had mixed in the smoke seemed to drive away would-be eavesdroppers even if Flint found it only mildly annoying. Maybe he was just use to it.

"Say what ye will, Ras," the captain growled.

Rasputan drew another puff then blew the smoke into a perfect ring. "Don't tease Ace. If you have needs then we should swing by Osanato, if those needs are more immediate then bend Silver over. He needs reminding anyway, but don't ruin Ace with your lust."

"I'm aware of that, Ras."

"Yet you teased him tonight instead of giving him space to vent. Those types of games do more harm than you think. When it comes to matters like these, you can be really dense," stated Rasputan.

Flint's eyebrow twitched. "He had bashed the floor until the bone on his knuckles was exposed."

"Then give him sandbag and gloves. He needs to be allowed to be angry without attacking anyone or himself."

"Time and time again, he has proven he doesn't make sound decisions when he's angry. He needs to learn to control his temper. Ye wanted to give him that staff – and I see the wisdom in it, he contributes more in a fight now than before, plus he did stop the communication's officer – but not five seconds after ye hand it to him he starts bashing the others."

"James is scum," stated Rasputan simply.

Flint didn't disagree but everyone on the ship was scum except Ace. "That being what it is, he can't keep starting fights. He's going to get himself killed and no amount of me being furious is going to bring him back if that happens."

"Ace needs to be allowed to be angry. You're making him vulnerable and vulnerable people get taken advantage of. If you don't let him have safe outlet for his emotions, then he's going to do something truly regrettable."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ace is dangerously close to breaking. It had been three decades since Flint cared enough about anyone to be concerned about their feelings, so he is very dense to this. Also, Ace is very much his type and it's been three decades since he denied himself anything.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	21. Des Moor

Chapter 21: Des Moor

The sky blushed with predawn glow, but the night still clung to the sea and only the lanterns offered a reprieve from the darkness aboard the Maiden's Sorrow, an unusual setting for a ship who liked to remain dark at night. Usually Ace was alone, save for the night watch, but this morning the entire crew had been forced to rise by Flint's demand.

It had been nearly a week since the whole ship had dissolved into a fist throwing brawl. The day started bright and early at breakfast with Quarken's angry declaration.

"Someone has made off with my supplies!"

"Ye sure? Maybe ye just miscounted, ye are getting old," said Silver as he and Jason collected plates from the counter where everyone had dropped them when they were finished.

Quarken puffed up with indignation and said, "I keep perfect records and I am missing several items that were there last night." He whirled and pointed at Ace. "And there is only one person that actually needs them."

The bosun sighed and grabbed Ace by the upper arm. "True, he is the likeliest suspect here."

"I didn't take them!" squeaked Ace then snapped his mouth shut as he realized who did. He had been suspicious of her story but…

"Hold, Jaeger, the lad didn't leave the boiler room until ten minutes ago," said Flint.

That was a literal statement. Ace was amazed he got through the load in one night after believing it would take longer, even the mending was done. After Syren had tended to his wounds, lent a sympathetic ear and even a shoulder without judgement, he had felt a million times better and he had been able to get through the unhappy chore without further setbacks. He was going to be tired, but he was ready to deal with the day.

Reality, however, was crashing into him with more sting than usual.

"That being said…" Flint yanked down Ace's pants and boxers in one shot, exposing his battered ass for the whole crew. The marks had already begun to fade. "I think he knows who stole the items."

Ace gritted his teeth and pulled his pants back up. He was not going to give up Syren. He was not a sell out!

"Oh look, he's getting stubborn again," said Silver. "I have a leather strap if ye want to make him talk. Though his ass is pretty busted, so maybe go for something a bit leaner?" Several crew men snickered. Ace clamped his lips together.

"No need for violence," said Flint. "There int a man on this ship, save the good doctor, who he would let near his ass." His cane pointed to Syren. "A pretty lass on the other hand might be more welcome company." Ace blanched.

Syren just stared back at Flint, unflinching. "Okay, so I took pity on the poor thing," she said raising her hands in surrender. "But really, how could I not? Those guardsmen were truly horrid. Making him beg and apologize to you when you weren't even there to hear it. They even had him apologize for being born, no one should have to say that no matter what they did."

Flint's expression became unreadable but the tension in the room became palpable.

"Oy vey…" muttered Rasputan, placing a hand against his face.

"Jaeger," said Flint in carefully controlled manner. "May I see ye in my office."

The bosun glanced at Syren then said, "Yes, Captain."

The rest of the crew filed out onto the main deck because most wanted to eavesdrop on Flint's private conversation with their enforcer. Officers never got in trouble on the ship, but their captain was not happy with Syren's announcement and Jaeger was the one that was getting talked to. This was the closest thing to salacious they were ever going to find on their ship that wasn't in the newspaper.

However, whatever thoughts anyone had on eavesdropping, came to an end when James turned to Syren and snarled, "You deny me but give it away for free to the runt?"

Syren stuck her nose in the air and said, "I gave nothing away. As I said I just felt sorry for him."

"She didnae do anything, ye bimbot!" snarled Ace, unwittily mimicking Flint's accent again as hurled another Scottish swear at the man.

No one had time to react to Ace's new accent before James turned and took a swing at Ace. The grunts weren't armed since weapons weren't allowed in the mess hall. Ace parried the punch and struck back. One-on-one he could handle himself. It didn't stay one-on-one for long.

Others, inspired by James, took the chance to go after Syren, who wisely fled into the rigging, expertly maneuvering her small frame through and around the ropes as she fended off her pursuers. The rest decided this was a good time to settle grievances and the rest was history.

Austin used his cudgels, officers were exceptions to the mess rule of course, to try to reign in the brawling crew but ended up having to fight defend himself. Quarken vanished into his medical ward while grumbling complaints about more wasted supplies. Rasputan waded in and sent men flying overboard to cool off. He reached Ace and pulled him out of the melee as Ace delivered a few well-placed kicks to his opponents' faces, busting James's nose in the process.

It ended a minute later when Flint reappeared and fired off his gun. Everyone froze, not sure who had just died, but this time he had fired into air. Jaeger's expression was a perfect mask of neutrality as he stood behind Flint. However, an "I told you so" gleamed in his eyes.

"Well this is completely torn it. I can't run this ship if ye nuggets intend on killing each other despite my orders. So, ye're going to participate in some long overdue 'team building' activities to return yer camaraderie to will-not-kill-this-person-today. On Des Moor." The officers groaned while everyone else looked confused.

Ace feared this would not end well.

Now the ship sat offshore of the mysterious Des Moor in the predawn with all the crew on deck and everyone save the officers shirtless, weaponless and bootless. Ace's trepidation about this 'team building' activity increased. Their antics should have earned them all a mass whipping. The lack of repercussions was not a good sign. Whatever this team building event was, Ace was certain they were going to wish he had just whipped them and been done with it.

The grin on Flint's face only added to his dread.

"Well, here we are," said Flint with way too much cheer for this early in the morning. "That's Des Moor. It's uninhabited and uncharted… for good reason. The island is mainly swamp with a bubbling pure water spring at the center that feeds it. Now let me explain what this team building exercise is going to look like."

He gestured to the dozen of empty barrels sitting on deck. They were each four feet tall and a yard across. "Ye'll be filling those barrels with that spring water."

"That's it?" asked James. "That's easy." Some of the crew relaxed at James's words.

_No way it's that easy_, thought Ace with a swallow.

"What's the catch?" asked Syren. She stood in her asymmetrical pants and bra strap, her usual outfit just without the boots. She had her arms crossed and looked bored.

"Ye'll be filling them with these," replied Flint. He tapped the side of a clay vase that was the length of a forearm and looked to be five inches at its wide middle and only three at the mouth. Ace looked between the vases and the barrels. Even with one vase for each non-officer, it would take several trips to fill all twelve barrels.

"There is a foot path that ye'll be using that leads from the beach to the spring. The barrels will be sitting on the beach and ye will go between the two carrying the vases full of water. This exercise doesn't stop until all the barrels are full. If there is still room for more water after ye've poured yer vase, ye have to go back to the spring. It doesn't matter how close to complete it is. I dinnae suggest doing anything like sabotaging each other. The less full vases make it back the longer it will take to finish the task. And this is one assignment ye'll want to get done before sunset. Things come out after dark that are hostile to humans."

And there it was. Stripped of their weapons, they wouldn't have any hope of defending themselves from attack. If they took too long, they could all die.

"Now load up the longboats, we head out at sunrise," declared Flint.

"Captain," said Rasputan in a soft voice.

"What is it, Ras?" Flint now looked annoyed as everyone stopped moving.

Rasputan regarded Flint for a moment then replied, "You and the other officers stay on the ship. I'll monitor the crew and bring back the barrels as they are filled."

"It's nice of ye to volunteer, Ras," said Flint. "However, I'm going to make sure they do their job right."

"Last time we didn't finish on time and I ended up having to throw you onto longboat as it was being rowed back to the ship. The swim ruined by swords and my coat. I am not doing that again. You are staying on ship and I will make sure the crew gets their assignment done. You are not so good at running when it's your own feet that must carry you to safety."

That last statement didn't seem necessary. Flint's expression was unreadable. The whole crew held its breath.

After several seconds of tension Flint spoke. "Fine, I'll stay here, and ye go with the nuggets alone. Just dinnae bring me a half full barrel in the end just because the sun was going down."

"That will not be a problem."

Ace really did not feel good about this assignment.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ace stubbornly placed one foot in front of the other as he marched back down the path with the rest of the crew. The path was mostly dry, but it meandered through the swamp trees rather than travel in a straight line, sometimes even doubling back on itself. The muddy swamp water, however, hid various nasty creatures like crocodiles and vipers, occasionally seen swimming or eyeing them from the water. It was also deeper in some places than it looked, threatening to swallow anyone dumb enough to tread through it. Someone had tried and barely managed to pull themselves back out before they were swallowed whole. The vase turned out to be unusually tough; it survived being dropped on the path as the poor fellow scrambled to get back up. After that everyone stayed on the path.

It wasn't hard at first. The vase wasn't that big, and it was easy enough to carry when mounted on the shoulder. By mid-afternoon, that little vase might as well have been a boulder twice his weight.

Except for the crocodiles that stayed in the water, he hadn't seen any other predators. Not even sleeping ones. Ace wondered if Rasputan and Flint had put on a show to freak out the non-officers and there wasn't any actual danger to them. It didn't seem likely. Why fake a death threat? Flint's order required fear of imminent or prolonged death so faking a threat seemed detrimental to maintaining order on his ship.

Then there was a brief moment in the late morning when a cloud had covered the sun for a half-minute. In that thirty seconds, Ace could've sworn he heard the forest stir. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled like something hungry was gazing at him. A feeling he knew well from his time at home hunting tigers and bears. When the sun returned, though, the sensation went away. He wasn't the only one to get the strange vibe.

"What a fright!" said Syren. "We best be hoping no storm blows in before sundown or we may not escape this island."

"What? Seeing shadows moving between the trees?" drawled James from the head of the line. "Well can't be blamed for that. You're just a woman, after all." A few men had snickered at James's comment, but the rest looked away, not wanting to admit that they agreed with Syren.

Syren glared but said nothing, continuing the march. Ace, just as unnerved, decided this was no time for another fight. They needed to get this done before the absolute darkness of night fell upon this place.

And now sundown was fast approaching.

_I think this is our last trip,_ thought Ace. _We're going to just make it in time_. Ace had paid attention to water level in the barrels on each trip, attempting to calculate how much water the crew transported in a run. Being the last in line he got a fairly accurate reading on the line's carrying capacity. They were on their last barrel. He was sure a few more vases were all that was needed to finish off that final barrel. Flint had said to go back into the forest for another trip if the barrel wasn't completely full when their vase was emptied, but if the first few dragged their feet about returning to the forest, then all of them would still be on the beach when the final barrel was filled. They could all leave together.

Ace wanted to slap himself. Why did he care if everyone made it off this wretched island? Maybe they wouldn't be allowed to leave until everyone returned? Flint hadn't said that. Only that the assignment wouldn't end until all the barrels were full and everyone with an empty vase had to go back into the swamp.

_Which probably means, anyone not back before the assignment is complete will be swimming back to the ship_, thought Ace with a grimace. He thought about the sensation of hunger from earlier and the growing shadows. _That is if they can get back to the beach._

Ace heaved a sigh as the trees parted to reveal the shoreline where the last barrel waited next to Rasputan and the longboats. Ace was toward the end of the line, James, however, was first. If Ace was right about the water level…

James emptied his vase then glared at the barrel. Not enough. He would have to go back, and the sun was beginning to touch the horizon. There was no way he could get to the spring and back before nightfall. James turned and his eyes met Ace's. The hateful man was the one person Ace hoped wouldn't consider dragging his feet. He thought he had kept his expression neutral rather than expressing his inner glee, but James snarled then shoved the barrel over.

The first man after James yelled and grabbed the barrel but not before a large amount splashed out. It was a small miracle that that man was able to keep his vase balanced. The others yelled in outrage, but James sneered at them.

"If I have to go back, you all go back!" he stated. He then picked up his empty vase and sauntered past the furious crew. The barrel was straightened as various men looked between it and the setting sun. No one was rushing to empty their vases. No one wanted to go back into the forest. Not even the ones that had laughed at James's earlier comment. Ace stepped out of line and jogged to the front. No one said anything about him getting out of line. The ones in back after all had a better chance of finishing off the barrel.

Ace looked into the barrel. There was more water in it than he feared there'd be from the angle it took during its fall before being caught. He glanced at the remaining vases then poured in his trying to gage how much the water rose with that addition. Maybe it would be enough, just enough, if they were careful. He set his vase down on the ground as his mind worked to find a loophole in Flint's command. Flint wasn't here so maybe they could bend his instructions just this once. Ace didn't look at Rasputan who had remained quiet through the whole thing.

Ace took a deep breath then turned to the man behind. "Give me your vase."

"Why, so you can stand here safe while I go back in?" demanded the man.

"No, so I can empty it into the barrel. Then you take the one behind you and he takes the one behind him until the last man in line. The last man stays where he is with no empty vase in hand. He can't go back without a vase. but he is at the end of the line. So, he has to wait until the person in front of him collects his vase before he can collect his."

The man became less hostile but still hesitated. His position was bad, so the idea did appeal to him, but was that acceptable under Flint's directives? Rasputan said nothing to counter Ace's explanation and Ace became more confident with his scheme.

"I think we may have just enough to finish the barrel off. If we do it this way, we can all return to the ship before nightfall," continued Ace. The man was almost convinced. "Besides, I'm Flint's favorite and this is my idea." That decided it. The man handed over the vase as Ace instructed and Ace began to carefully pour the contents into the barrel. Everyone carefully, relayed their vases to the front while those without stood in their position. The last man eyed the swamp that was beginning to feel more and more ominous by the second.

Ace tipped the last vase and the last drops of water fell into the barrel. It was full. Ace heaved a sigh of relief as did the few behind him that could see. A lid slapped down in place, startling the young man.

"You're finished, good," said Rasputan as he hammered the lid into place. "Now get the vases, barrel and yourselves to the longboats immediately. The beach is no safer than the swamp once we lose the light. Too bad James had to be such a poor sport in the end." He didn't sound sorry. In fact, Ace thought he caught sight of a smirk buried in his thick brown beard. He had deliberately given James the first vase when this started.

The crew didn't hesitate to obey. Ace jumped into the longboat while carrying three vases. Two of the bigger men brought the barrel to another and loaded it. Once everyone was aboard, they pushed away from the land. The last light of day faded from the sky as they rowed back toward the ship.

Flint appeared at the railing as they pulled alongside. "You actually got it done, I'm impressed," he said, sounding sincere. Ace swallowed and looked back at the island that was now a dark shadow save for the white sand beaches that reflected in the rising moon's light.

"Where's James? I dinnae see him," Flint asked as men climbed aboard and tugged on ropes to pull the longboats back into their resting positions. The last barrel was rolled off to join the others in the stores.

Rasputan held up three fingers, then folded one then another…

A scream pierced the night. Men paused in their work to look toward the island. The shadowy trees seemed to move as if in a gale, though only a light breeze blew. Ace looked as well and saw a figure break from the trees onto the sand. James had made it back to the beach. He waved his arms frantically. Only then did Ace remember that James had never bothered to learn how to swim. An odd choice given his occupation. Did he really think anyone on this crew was going to row back out to get him?

Ace felt a hand grab his head. "This is not something you should see," said Rasputan in a grave voice. Just as Ace was being turned away, he thought he saw something shoot out of the trees and grab James. All he saw then was Rasputan's heavy red coat, but the sounds that came from the island coupled with James's screams could still be heard clearly. Several men aboard cried out in horror and at least two were sick. That was telling and Ace didn't resist Rasputan's censorship.

"Luckless bastard," stated Flint with a sniff. He then turned away and shouted, "Scottie, get us out of here, the coast is no sanctuary, either."

_It wasn't?!_ Ace thought, horrified that Flint had actually been mad enough to bring them to such a place. And they were using the engines and not the sails despite the presence of a wind? That was even more telling. Now Ace wanted to be sick and he hadn't even been allowed to witness James's demise.

The engines roared to life and the ship vibrated with their power as she sped away from the death filled island.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And you all thought your office's idea of a "fun" team-building activity was torture…

To the guest reviewer: Intriguing idea. I'll keep that in mind for a possible "Missing Chapter" event, if it doesn't argue with the main story too much. Unfortunately, it will not occur among these entries. I actually have all 55 chapters for Through Fire and Brimstone written, edited and ready for posting. In order to increase exposure, I'm releasing a chapter every 12 to 24 hours, but this story is already written. That's why my notes mention original chapters, heavy edits, and twilight entries.

The "Missing Chapters" are going to appear in "The Dancing Bear Tavern and other shorts" and they will be chapters directly relating to Through Fire and Brimstone but were inspired after the cutoff for entry into the main story. (Their entry risked having to adjust existing chapters to prevent repetition of information or flat out rework chapters and I had given myself a September 30th deadline to get all the editing done so that I could start posting.)

Thank you for the idea, and I'll see if I could write such an entry without messing with the current story.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	22. Garp

Chapter 22: Garp

"Captain! We have a Marine vessel approaching our stern from the five 'o'clock position!" cried the look out.

Ace sighed and wondered if he should even continue with his task of swabbing the deck. Every time the Marines boarded their ship the deck would suddenly be a mess of dirty footprints and random trash. It was as if the Marines were expressing their contempt for the trade class. For Ace, it meant more work as he would have to clean the deck all over again. Just because the Marines made an unexpected call didn't mean he would be allowed to eat lunch before his chores were finished.

His new routine needed him doing all his ship focused chores before noon so he could have the entire afternoon to study and practice staff combat with Rasputan. Seeing that, Jaeger had then declared Ace now had to finish those chores before he could take his lunch, no matter what happened. Silver did not hold meals. If Ace didn't make it in before the last sailor collected his meal, then Ace wouldn't eat until dinner. Studying and staff training were nearly impossible on an empty stomach.

Any other day, the crew would have been highly amused by Ace's troubles, but this inspection was going to disrupt everyone's routine, so they were just as annoyed. Since the alternate scenarios was to go head-to-head or run-like-hell, it was a mild annoyance. The joy of being aboard a chameleon ship was that the Marines wouldn't attack when they encountered it, though.

Flint stood on the rear deck examining the ship through his spyglass, confirming the Marine ship was heading their way and not just sailing by. Suddenly he tisked and put the spyglass down.

"That's Garp's ship," he said. Several pirates squawked in horror.

Ace froze. "Jiijiii?" he whispered without realizing he had spoken out loud. His mind began to whirl. _Should I say something to Flint? Jiijii will recognize me and wonder what I'm doing on this ship. He may wonder what kind of ship this is._

Flint was coming down to the main deck. "Everyone be on yer best behavior. This is one fight we willnae win if he realizes the truth." Flint turned to eye two of the crew with the least respectable appearance. "Ye two, hide yerself in the smuggler's hold until they leave." He turned to regard Syren and her asymmetrical pants and bra strap.

She saluted without saying a word and disappeared indoors to change. She had acquired a spare outfit for civilized ports. A long loose shirt that hung halfway down her thigh, a pair of modest pants and a cloth belt she tied around her middle, turning the shirt into a mini dress. It made her look harmless despite the continued presence of facial tattoos and piercings.

Ace found his pulse racing. Flint was afraid of Garp. If he spoke up… If he let Garp see him… He was certain his grandfather would save him… at the price of Ace having to give up being a pirate, though. Ace actually debated it. If Garp had to save him, Ace would become a Marine for sure, but would that be a bad thing? Vice-Admiral Desiree had offered him a position in the Marines despite knowing he was member of Flint's crew. He might be okay.

If Flint and his crew weren't the worst of the worst in general humanity… If Ace hadn't had three failed attempts at escape behind him… If not for Des Moor… He wouldn't even be considering letting Garp save him, but he had never felt so desperate in his life. He would give up being a pirate if it meant escaping Flint. He was done with everything about this ship and everything it represented.

A shadow crossed his vision and Ace returned his attention to the present and gulped. Flint stood before him, his green eyes staring hard into his with cold calculation.

"Take this one with ye," Flint said slowly. "Make sure he can't speak or do anything to give his position away."

Ace blanched and in that moment his desperate terror as well as his vanishing hope drove him to act in a way that abandoned all reason and self-preservation. He bolted for the railing. He'd swim to the Marine ship. If he could get in the water, Flint would have to focus on running rather than trying to recapture him.

Flint caught Ace's pant leg with the hooked handle of his cane and Ace went face first into the deck. The two crewmen Flint had instructed to hide below deck, raced forward and grabbed Ace before he could regain his feet for a second attempt. Ace wished he had his staff, but he had to keep that indoors when they weren't anticipating a battle or training. Less temptation to start fights with the other crewmen.

"No! Let me go!" cried Ace, full panic causing him to abandon his pride. He fought to break free of the men. This ship was still too far away to see or hear anything going on the main deck, but Ace still started shouting as if they might.

"JIIJII! HELP ME!"

"Jii-?!" Flint hissed and a few crewmen gasped in shock. "Well that answers that question. Hurry and get him below before the Marines come about and see this! We'll be dead men if Garp realizes we have his grandson onboard."

The men wrestled Ace to the hatch and threw him down, jumping after him before he could recover his wind and rise. They pinned him to the deck and bound his hands and feet. One stuffed a gag into his mouth then they carried him to the secret door leading to the lower hold. They dumped him inside before hurrying in, the men outside securing the hatch and shifting cargo to cover it. The two lay on top of Ace preventing him from moving. Or so they thought.

Ace lay still like he was trapped but, in the darkness, neither was aware his legs weren't as pinned as they thought. Ace could kick once maybe twice and strike the sides of the treasure chest they were resting near. The loud thump and clinking gold coins within would alert anyone above them to the hidden space. He would just have to time it for when the inspecting Marines were present in the hold as they checked the cargo.

It was a long wait in the dark. Voices filtered down but he couldn't understand what was being said or even who was speaking. Then the thumping of boots on wood as the men descended into the hold. Ace steeled himself, he would only have one shot.

"I cannot believe they would have the Hero of the Marines doing regular customs inspections. It truly is an honor to meet ye." Flint's voice carried through the floorboards. Ace went cold. Flint never went below deck during an inspection.

"Ha-ha! I can't be above these types of tasks," Garp replied, sounding like he didn't have a care in the world. "Besides I can't always be battling pirates. Doing these inspections sometimes gives me something pleasant to do when I would otherwise be bored witless sitting behind some desk. I much prefer being out on the sea to being cooped up on land."

Ace hopes plummeted. Flint was standing right next to Garp and the pair had come down for the inspection personally. If Ace kicked the boards it would put Garp on alert but not in the way he would be expecting an attack. In fact, it would distract him from Flint who was standing next to him. In that unguarded moment, Flint would strike.

Flint didn't believe he could win in a straight fight, but he only needed a second to take the head of an opponent. He was within range of Garp's neck. One distracted moment and his grandfather would be dead. Despite the cavalier nature of their discussion, Garp was still giving Flint his full attention. Flint couldn't do anything while Garp talked to him, but if the old Vice-Admiral turned away to examine a strange noise…

If only his grandfather had stayed above deck, better yet stayed on his ship. Cold as it was, Ace would have risked the life of anyone else if it meant escape. If anyone else had come below, even if it meant their life, Ace would have kicked. The alarm, whether to alert to the hidden cargo compartment or the death of a Marine, would definitely sound and Garp would have the advantage over Flint. But Flint had sweet talked Garp into being the one to come below with him. The greatest threat to the famed heartless Pirate Captain was now in the greatest danger himself and the vice-admiral didn't even know it.

It was only a matter of convenience that prevented Flint was taking advantage of the situation and ending Garp's life. If Flint started a fight the Marines left on the ship would call for help. Even if they were successful in eliminating everyone, there was no guarantee what information would pass to Marine Headquarters before they silenced the caller. Flint didn't want his chameleon ship identified as such without due cause. That was what had almost happened with Commander Archigold. They had lucked out that Den Den Mushi had failed to get through before Ace destroyed it. Ace cursed Flint's devilish luck once more.

The message Flint gave Ace now was silent and deliberate. Garp would leave the ship alive as long as Ace behaved himself and remained hidden.

Flint and Garp were still chatting and Ace realized they were standing directly above them. He suddenly had a vision of hearing the thud of a body striking the deck and blood oozing through the boards to drip on him, his grandfather's blood. Ace's mind flashed to every memory he had of the old man from when he was growing up. Garp had been protecting him from the time he was born. Though, Garp's dreams for Ace were different from what Ace wanted, it all came from his desire to protect young man. He had given Ace a chance at life when everyone else would have thrown him in the nearest well.

Ace had been the one that had stubbornly wanted to be a pirate. Ace was the one who went out to sea ill prepared for the reality of sailing it. Ace was the one who got himself into the mess with Flint. Was he such a child that he needed saving from his own mistakes by his grandfather? He couldn't risk his grandfather's life after all he had done for him, the good, the bad and the ugly of it all, by begging him for salvation.

Ace let his muscle go limp and he closed his eyes. He would find a way to save himself. He did not need his grandfather to save him. He did not need him anymore.

Tears slid down his face as he convinced himself of this truth, though, all he felt was the darkness of despair at knowing there really wasn't any way to escape Flint.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And this is when Ace breaks.

This is one of the original flashbacks. Syren was crowbarred in. This was supposed to happen later timewise but it ended up fitting here with what I was planning.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	23. The Gamble

Chapter 23: The Gamble

Ace slipped into a depression after his grandfather's visit to the Maiden. He did his chores. He did his assignments. He did his training. All of it without even a glimmer of emotion. Everything was robotic, his eating, his sleeping, his bathing. When the crew heckled him, he didn't react. He didn't even acknowledge anything was said to him. When a disgusted crewman shoved Ace, the young man just fell over, lay there unmoving for a moment, then rose and continued whatever he was doing.

Rasputan's training was torture for anyone to watch. Staff training required passion to create power or speed. While Ace went through the motions perfectly, he lacked the force necessary to make his training effective. Rasputan, frustrated, tried to force Ace to acknowledge the training by striking the staff with energy. Instead Ace would either lose the staff or get knocked down.

The bosun had taken Ace aside to try to get him to talk. Ace's proper but bland responses ended with Jaeger slapping him several times, trying to get a rise out of the young man. Ace took the blows in silence, doing nothing to defend himself. He looked like a man counting the days until he died.

When the ship came under fire again, Flint locked Ace in his cabin rather than risk the young man being killed in the battle. In his state, Ace may let himself get killed. He may have even desired it. Short of giving Ace back his freedom, there wasn't anything anyone on this ship could do to pull him out of his depression. Rasputan didn't even think freedom would cure him now.

"He's broken. The moment he decided he wanted to be rescued by Garp, he broke. If he leaves now, he will never return to the sea."

Flint scowled but said nothing. Rasputan usually had the better read on people's emotions. This was the worst-case scenario, what he had been hoping to avoid. He went over the past five months in his head, trying to figure out where he had over done it. The only thing he could think of that was excessive was the incident with the guardsmen at Amadeus, but Ace had remained defiant as ever even afterwards.

Rasputan stared at Flint with an arched eyebrow as if he could read his thoughts. Flint knew the man well enough to realize he was being judged harshly right then. The captain glared as he recalled what had been said later that night in Amadeus. The Cossack had chastised Flint for the actions he taken against Ace.

"If ye have something else to add to that, speak now or bugger off," said Flint.

Rasputan drew on his pipe one last time and walked past Flint toward the main deck. "I've said enough on this subject already."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Syren wasn't thrilled by this turn of events. After Des Moor, she knew she had to get off the ship sooner rather than later. She wasn't a fool. Ace's little rule-bending gambit wouldn't have worked if Flint had been standing over him. Rasputan had granted them all mercy by allowing it. She was not sorry about James, the bastard had deserved it, but the realization that Rasputan's mercy was the only reason they weren't all monster grub made her blood run cold.

She had guessed Ace's chivalry would be the key to her escape, but with him drained of all will power, she feared her time had come and gone. Still there was only one way to find out how permanent this was. If she could revive even a token spark in him, she might manage to pull this off.

She hunted him out in the dark hours of the morning when he worked alone on the crew's laundry. It was indoors, away from the other cabins, and no one came to check on him during this time. She would have him all to herself.

Syren didn't plan on using seduction on him. The way he had allowed himself to be nibbled on by one of the crew before Jaeger spotted them and beat the man off revealed how severe his depression was. He had surrendered to his fate and was no longer resisting anything. The loss of hope was damning. She needed to revive that first and only sympathy and kindness would prevail. Fortunately, she had been deploying those techniques the whole time.

She smiled as she entered the boiler room. This would work. She almost pitied Ace, she was going to revive his fire just for it to be snuffed out by Flint for good. If she succeeded with her plan, Ace would definitely be killed. Well, the young man was already suicidal. He may not be trying to hang himself, that didn't mean he wouldn't accept death when it came for him.

Syren looked up and Ace stood with his back to her, hanging a pair of pants. As always, he was naked to the waist as he worked. Between the heat and the wash water, it was just better for him not to wear his shirt.

Schooling her expression to one of concern, she approached him and spoke. "Ace?"

Ace didn't stop or glance at her. His typical response to all audio stimuli now. She stepped closer and slid her fingers along the muscles of his shoulders.

"Ace?" she whispered again. Still no response. Still not unexpected.

She tugged gently on his shoulder, pulling him away from the laundry line and guiding him to face her. He did so without resistance. His expression empty, black eyes dead. She swallowed, her confidence faltering. He really looked gone.

"Ace? Please speak to me," she continued. She placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing a thumb along the tendon. What to say? What would reach him? "I can't…" She hesitated then jumped on an idea. "I need you. You're the only one I can trust on this wretched hell ship."

She felt something, a subtle shift in his stance, an increase in his pulse. Chivalry. If he could not act for himself, he may act for her. She continued.

"I need you. I don't know what I'll do if you don't come back. Please don't leave me alone." She laid her head against his chest, letting tears fill her eyes and fall onto his hot skin. "Please, come back to me."

Ace's body shuddered and his hands rose to enfold her small arms. Stifling triumph, she gazed up at him with tear filled eyes. Ace looked at her. Really looked at her. His expression wasn't much improved by the light of life gleaming from their black depths.

"I…" he started to speak.

She raised her hands to cup his face. "It's okay. You're hurt. Let me make it better."

Tears appeared in his eyes, another good sign. "You… can't."

Syren slid her arms around his head and pulled him down until his face was buried in her neck. His arms slid around her back until she was held in a tight embrace. His shoulders shook from his silent sobs. She stroked the back of his head in reassurance. This was good. She could still use him. This was very good.

Yes, she pitied Ace.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A few days later, the Maiden was docked at Ivans. It was a moderate trade hub, not as large nor as busy as places like Osanato. That just meant less Marines and more under-the-table dealings.

Syren eyed the ships in the harbor as their ship tied up. What she needed was a ship about to leave that she could stowaway on. She had to time the escape just right. If she fled too soon, Flint would have time to alert port authorities and they would hold all ships until they could be searched. Too late, and she wouldn't be able to sneak aboard before it left the dock.

Using the privacy of the boiler room, she had divulged her desire to leave the ship. Ace at first had been a downer about it, not surprising considering his record. Then he had come up with the idea of luring Flint into chasing him while she snuck away and hid on another ship.

This was exactly what she had wanted.

She, of course, argued against it. Expressing concern for his continued wellbeing. He waved off her concerns with a thin smile, claiming he'd be fine since he was Flint's favorite. It was a lie. She could read it on his face that he didn't believe he would be forgiven for this. A madness entered his eyes as he spoke. One born of the hope that came from seeing death and accepting it with gladness. She chose to ignore it; she couldn't work too hard to change his mind or he just might.

Ace spent the intervening days with more vigor, and it was noticed by everyone. Most of the crew believed Ace was finally getting over his funk. Flint eyed him suspiciously. Rasputan eyed Syren. Syren felt her breath catch the first time she realized the tall lanky Cossack was looking at her. However, he said nothing to Flint and Flint seemed to have forgotten she existed. She hoped that continued until she was long gone.

Syren spied her ideal vessel only a few piers down. The ship had only a few crates next to it on the dock as men carried a few others onto the ship. The tide would be turning soon. A quick sprint would get her to it in less than a minute. She could slip aboard while the dockworkers untied the ship.

She turned and caught Ace's eyes. She rolled hers in the direction of her escape vessel and Ace glanced away. He understood. He was ready to lead the crew in the opposite direction as soon as they were ashore. Flint was planning to take him along on one of his trade meetings. She suspected Flint was just doing so to keep tabs on the suicidal young man since it was very likely the rest of the crew wouldn't interfere if Ace did decide to hang himself. Most would just claim they didn't see it happening until it was too late.

Syren was to go ashore but in the company of five of the men including Jaeger. Flint didn't trust her. She couldn't imagine why. Ace would have to spring past them, before the groups separated, if she were to have a chance.

They marched down the gangway and prepared to separate into their little groups. Ace bolted like a deer before the tiger. He fled down a street that led away from the docks and into the town. Flint looked on in disbelief, along with several others, then Jaeger, Austin and five other crew charged after him. Syren waited a moment, to ensure the remainder's attention was fully on the runners, then turned and walked away. Running would attract the rest like flies to carrion.

She wove through the people, dockworkers mostly, some still working others stopping to see what the fuss was about. As soon as she felt she was a safe distance, and with enough obstacles between her and Flint's crew, she sprinted.

She looked toward her target. The ship was untying itself from the dock. She had to get to it now!

The ship started to pull away as the last line came free. Syren leapt past the startled dockworkers that had just finished untying it. She grabbed the line as it was being raised and clambered over the side, startling a young blonde man. Not the way she had planned on stowing away, but the ship had finished sooner than she had anticipated.

Syren raised her hands as she adjusted her expression to one of fright. "Please, hide me! Flint is in the port and I just escaped his ship!" She was ever so grateful she was wearing her civilized outfit, though she hated it and preferred her usual clothes. She doubted anyone would think her in need of saving if she was dressed in her regular outfit. She looked just a little too confident and badass in it.

"He is?!" The man began to step toward the railing to look but Syren restrained him.

"Don't! He doesn't know I'm here. If you search, he'll know and then he'll hunt you. So, don't look!" Not true. Flint was currently disguised as Abrams and wouldn't do anything to give himself away, like jumping back onto his own ship and chasing them. This ship had the added bonus of being unremarkable with no identifiable characteristics. Even if he came seeking them later, he wouldn't be able to determine if the ship he saw was the one she was on. He would waste time searching while she continued to sail away.

However, she didn't want the young man to look for Flint. He was distinctive with his black duster and top hat, blonde hair, and scarred left eye. If Flint saw him, he would know what to look for on the ship he sought. Her hiding below deck wouldn't matter at all.

The man looked at her and relented. "All right but stay low until we're clear of the port. You can tell me your story later."

"Thank you!" Syren smiled relief. He reminded her of Ace. Nice guy with a touch of chivalry.

Poor Ace. She hoped his next life was kinder to him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It is actually true that people who are suicidal, once they have made the decision to go ahead with the suicide, will be happy and energetic again. They have made the decision to die and so are no longer worrying about anything and are relieved that it will soon be over. Ace's rebound of energy is due to this factor.

Yes, Syren ended up on Sabo's ship.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	24. Provoking the Devil

Chapter 24: Provoking the Devil

It was disconcerting for all involved that when Jaeger and the others brought Ace back, the young man was laughing like he downed an entire buffet of laughing mushrooms. He wasn't resisting like he had in the past. While a man did hold fast to each arm as they led him back, Ace walked normally rather than dragging his feet or trying to pull free. Well as normally as one could while doubling over from unprovoked hilarity. The men looked uncomfortable as if Ace's unexplained mirth was the symptom of some contagious disease.

Once in front of Flint, the men released Ace then stepped back. The rest of the crew circled the two. If he tried to run again, he wouldn't get two steps before someone snagged him. Ace, however, just sank to his knees as he continued to choke on his own laughter, tears streaming down his eyes. Flint was beside himself. Ace had gone from an emotionless void to overwhelming mad joy. This had to be from artificial means. He turned toward Rasputan and Quarken, the only two who had the such means to alter a person's emotional state.

"All right, what did ye give him? He's clearly overdosed," said Flint, his tone annoyed.

"Ye know I dinnae bother with those medications. There's no point. I stitch people back up, I dinnae deal with their emotional traumas," replied Quarken, testily.

"I gave him nothing. His depression was not caused by imbalance. Anything I had would only make things worse in the long run. Not worth getting him addicted," said Rasputan.

Flint looked at the Cossack. He didn't say he didn't have something that could cause this only that he hadn't given it to him. Did someone steal some from Rasputan?

"And no, I am not missing anything. I always check my things when I return and before I leave," added Rasputan, reading Flint's mind.

Flint pinched his nose. They were making too much of a scene as it was, and Flint couldn't ask more detailed questions without revealing more than he wanted to a dock full of eavesdroppers.

"Get him into the brig," ordered Flint. "He can sober up there and then he'll be able to tell us where he got the fun drugs."

"Yes, sir!" A pair of men lifted the still guffawing Ace up and led him back toward the ship. The rest began to split up into their groups.

Jaeger stopped and looked around then asked a question that froze the blood of everyone in earshot. "Where's Syren?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"How in the world did this happen?" muttered Flint, his face buried in his hand as he slouched in his chair. It was near midnight and all the officers were in his cabin to discuss the matter. Flint wasn't looking for an answer only expressing his feelings on something that had suddenly spiraled out of his control.

Unfortunately, Quillan took him literally. "This is all the fault of Ace. The little mongrel has been a distraction to ye ever since he came onboard. Everything was in proper order before he came along. If not for him forcing his contemptible morals on this crew, Syren would have been properly put in her place and she wouldn't have even dreamed of trying to jump ship."

Flint glared through his fingers, but it was Silver that spoke first.

"Oh please, Bookworm, she was planning to leave from the moment she was brought onboard." Silver shot a look of disgust at Quillan. "Ace was just her stooge to get what she wanted. She would have worked someone else if he weren't here. It could even have been James that she chose, egging him to start a mutiny while she jumped off the back. Dinnae make this into some drama about Ace inspiring rebellion. She used him. Managed to find that one last little spark of will he had and fanned it into the flame she needed to pull this off."

"Her behavior did suggest she'd been through a few crews. She had no loyalty to the last one after all," added Austin. Syren had gleefully aided in the torture of her former shipmates. Some of it might have been due to being sold out, but it just seemed part of her nature to be that wicked.

"Ace wouldn't know about that part of her personality, since he hides from the torture," said Jaeger. He shook his head. "No, Silver's right. She's smart and manipulative. Ace was just easy prey."

"Which made her the perfect Headhunter," said Silver with a laugh. "Shame really. The kid int and he's still here, she was, and she successfully escaped."

Rasputan leaned against the wall, remaining silent. Jaeger was wisely not saying anything that would even remotely sound like "I told you so," but Rasputan could hear it and he was sure Flint could as well. It was no secret Jaeger hadn't wanted Syren onboard for this very reason. The bosun, unlike Flint, understood that women could be very manipulative, and men could be suckers. It just hadn't occurred to him or anyone that Ace would be her chosen sacrifice. They had taken her for someone who would use sexual favors to manipulate someone to act in her preferred manner. Ace was too innocent and honest for that to work on. Rasputan guessed she had used emotional manipulation.

He should have seen it, they all should have seen it, when she stole medicine to treat Ace's wounds. She had been priming him. In fact, he had seen it, just not realized it. When he had chastised Flint for his behavior in Amadeus, he warned the captain that his actions were making Ace vulnerable and that he might do something regrettable. He had prophesied without even realizing it. The story of his life. Sigh.

It had taken them only thirty minutes of inquiry to discover where Syren went. A pair of dockworkers had nearly been bowled over by her as she leapt aboard a departing ship. According to those same dockworkers the captain had bribed the port authority to not note them in his logs and there was nothing distinctive about the vessel to make her easy to track. Syren had chosen her escape craft well and not without a fair amount of luck. It had only been a few piers away.

Rasputan didn't believe she would sell them out. She would hold her knowledge of Flint close to the heart as a dagger to be drawn only in the most dire of circumstances. A weapon she could use if Flint chose to chase after her. She was smart after all. She would understand that if she blew Flint's secret prematurely, then Flint, having lost his professional enterprise, would have no image to maintain and he would be free to spend every waking moment hunting her. Since she actually wanted to live and live the way she wanted, it made sense for her not to provoke him further.

However, he wondered how much of that would occur to Flint in his current state. Flint didn't like not being in control of his secrets. He couldn't imagine this ending well and Quillan wasn't helping.

"Anyone else could have been taken care of with a bullet to the head before it came to this," sniffed the Vice-Captain, showing a fair amount of unworthiness to that title. "It is because it was the one cur onboard that he widnae shoot that she was able to progress this far. He is a bad influence and will inspire mutiny if this continues. Mark my words."

Silver rolled his eyes. "That little shit cannot inspire a bum to drink."

Rasputan wasn't so sure. He had never mentioned what happened on Des Moor, but Ace had won a bit of respect from the crew. His quick thinking had saved their lives. He had been in the back of the line when James had knocked the barrel over. His vase would have finished the barrel while the rest would have been marching back into that swamp, following Flint's sadistic orders. Which was why it was only the newest recruits that had been hassling him since then.

Taking their cue from Rasputan, none of the men had discussed Des Moor either, so Silver wouldn't know about that. However, Jaeger's shifting eyes revealed that he was aware of the crew's collective change in behavior toward Ace. The bosun wasn't sure that Ace couldn't inspire a mutiny, just that it was too soon to worry about it.

"He is capable of it!" stated Quillan with a wag of his finger at Silver. "He constantly defies the captain who lets him do so. The crew is losing their fear and respect. We'll have those dogs over running us if that vile child is not removed at once. These constant exceptions are not good for order on this ship!"

"You're quite determined to see the boy dead," said Rasputan, speaking for the first time. "One wonders how long you've been harboring these sentiments." He stared at Quillan as the man puffed red. Was Quillan the source of the death curse on Ace? It seemed likely.

Flint gave a small laugh, and everyone froze. It wasn't one of mirth, the sound dripped malice to their ears. He rose slowly to his feet his hands resting on the desk. If lightning could sprout from a person, it would be sprouting from him. Rasputan felt himself become guarded. It was rare for the captain to be this angry about anything. Quillan shouldn't have spoken like Flint wasn't in the room. Nothing ground a person's gears more than being talked about like they weren't there. Worse, was what the vice-captain had been suggesting.

"Are ye saying I'm losing control of my crew?" Flint's voice was a harsh whisper.

Quillan pressed on, ignoring the homicidal gleam in the captain's green eyes. Where did he get the balls to do this? "Aye! Ye've had to kill more men in these five months than ye have in the last year. We huvnae been able to be as careful with our recruitment, allowing that fool onboard who nearly blew our secret to the Marines with his big mouth. And now Syren has taken flight. Nothing like this has ever happened before and it is all because ye allowed yerself to soften for that whore's child."

It was generally bad form to insult someone's mother in the pirate world. For most pirates, mothers were the only people who loved them and were often lost too soon. Calling a pirate's mother, a whore, even if she had been one, was not something done without consequence. It was also expected for those consequences to be meted out by the pirate whose mother was insulted not a proxy. However…

Flint slammed the desk. "What right do ye have to say such about a dead woman whose name ye dinnae even know?"

Quillan jammed a finger at Flint. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Ye widnae care if I said it about any of the other mutts out there, but I said it about yer precious puppy and now ye are upset with me. This is what that cur has done to ye."

Flint was silent for a moment, then he whispered, "Sell the cargo to Pierre for whatever he wants to give us for it."

Quillan blanched. The profit minded bookkeeper couldn't stand the idea of giving away cargo. "We'll scarcely make a few beries if I do that."

"Quillan, I dinnae care. I'm done with this island. Once the cargo is gone, we'll head out and then I will show ye, all of ye, how cold I can be."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Quillan gets some of the blow back from his reckless provocation. He has to sell goods at a discount, the horror!

Rasputan prefers to call out Flint in private since it would be a bad look for Flint to have one of his "subordinates" criticize him. However, he's going to regret not putting his foot down at this meeting where officers would be less bothered by the criticism and the regulars can't hear.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	25. Decisions

Chapter 25: Decisions

It was an ugly affair. The crew lacked loyalty to each other and usually cajoled whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of a flogging. Ace had been subject to sneers and mocking in previous beatings himself, but today was different. Everyone watched in silence and dread.

Quillan's provocation had put Flint in the foulest of moods and the entire crew was walking on eggshells. Each and every one of them terrified of drawing his attention while he clearly desired blood. Jaeger had marched out of the office the night of the meeting and straight into the crew bunks to warn everyone of Flint's mood so they could protect themselves. One fool hadn't taken the warning seriously and got his face blown off.

Ace hadn't protested as he was chained to the mast, hadn't begged or apologized. His mad laughter had stopped and now he seemed to have retreated mentally into the realm beyond caring. His eyes were once again empty of emotion. That only served to infuriate Flint more who had snatched the ox whip from the bosun's hand to deal the blows himself. It had all the earmarks of an execution not a disciplining.

The blows landed heavily and the cruel, long, black whip tore skin and muscle alike. They provoked cries from the young man but no tears or words of any kind. Ace had already embraced his death and was simply waiting for sweet darkness to take him.

Rasputan observed the situation in silence. He had hoped the three days it took to safely leave the harbor would have cooled Flint's temper, especially since there was no sign that they had been compromised by Syren's departure. He had tried the day after that disastrous meeting to talk to Flint, but the man had refused to hear him out. The old Cossack wasn't ready to go to war with the captain, but he feared he may have misjudged the situation and missed his chance to talk Flint down.

He believed in consequences, so he was not opposed to Ace's flogging, but he wasn't sure killing him was what Flint actually wanted. The man had invested too much time into the boy's development to throw him away now. That investment was why Flint hesitated to kill officers. It took a lot of work to replace them if they were lost, so once one was established it would take a full-on mutiny to provoke him into executing them. And he had invested more time and energy in these five months to Ace than he ever had to any of his officers.

Rasputan had seen Flint lose his temper to this degree before and it hadn't gone well for anyone. The last time he had been this worked up nearly the whole crew had been wiped out. The fall out had been disastrous, and the Headhunter pirates had nearly ended right then. Quillan had been acquired after that event. In truth Rasputan was the only one left who had been there when it happened.

The more the Cossack watched Flint and Ace the more he knew he needed to step in. It was not good to challenge Flint so openly. It risked turning the hierarchy of the ship on its head. However, it would be worse to let Flint continue if the action was something he would regret once his blood had cooled. Depending on the level of his regret, he could start killing his officers, beginning with Quillan, and burn down the whole ship with all of them aboard.

Then there was the simple selfish desire of Rasputan himself. He didn't want Ace to die. It wasn't because Ace was generally a likable person, with compassion for his comrades that really didn't belong on this ship. It was because something about Ace called to Rasputan in a way that he hadn't felt in decades. Ace was special. How, Rasputan couldn't say just yet, but he wasn't about to dismiss his instincts just because he had yet to identify the cause.

Ace hung from his shackles, no longer crying out, unconscious. The next blow might just finish him. It was now or never.

Rasputan took a deep breath then stepped forward. He caught the whip around his arm, letting the long leather coil around his forearm.

"That's enough, Flint," said Rasputan. Everyone held their breath. Never had they heard Rasputan call the captain by name before. He had always been careful to save that for their private talks.

"You've made your point loud and clear," continued the Cossack without moving. "Anymore and the boy will die. Is that what you really want?"

Flint glared death and Rasputan was grateful that the captain had such a bedrock non-belief in the arcane. If the man had been a witch, the Cossack would be a pile of smoldering ashes right then. Flint said nothing, though, just continued to hold the whip like he expected Rasputan to release it.

"You're angry, Flint, and rightly so, but you are letting your temper rule your decisions now," said Rasputan. "You've said that Ace makes poor decisions when angered." He narrowed his eyes. "So do you. You need to stop and calm yourself, Flint, before you do anything regrettable yourself."

Flint bared his teeth. "He put this entire operation in danger for a few sweet nights."

"She didn't seduce him, and you know it. He's too innocent. That's why we didn't notice. He is a child, Flint. She coddled him like a child. For all he acts tough he still has the emotional insecurities of a child. That's why your little teases are so damning to him."

"I dinnae care about the method of her seduction. It changes nothing about the results."

"I was trying to tell you this the other day, but you refused to listen. Syren is not a threat to us. She will use your secret as blackmail to keep you from pursuing her. Let her. As long as we don't pursue her, she will not dare to whisper what she knows."

"So, I am supposed to overlook this violation?"

"You go any further and Ace dies. Again, Flint, is that what you want?"

Flint shifted his weight to his good leg, hooked his cane over his arm and drew his gun. The crew dove for cover. Rasputan didn't move, just stared at Flint, waiting for his answer.

"Move," ordered Flint.

"No."

BAM! PING! POP!

"Really, Flint?" Rasputan gazed at the captain with his own raised eyebrow. Flint had shot his gun at the Cossack but at the meaty part of his right thigh. The Cossack's cutlass had seemed to materialize in his hand, deflecting the bullet harmlessly into the deck beside him.

Rasputan wasn't angry but he sighed as he strived to keep his annoyance in check. If Flint's threat was serious, he would have aimed at something more vital. By aiming for the one part of Rasputan's body that wouldn't do any permanent harm the Cossack knew Flint still had some control over himself. That was a good sign even as he realized it was only a small part that was under control. If Flint had aimed to kill him, Rasputan would have known it was a lost cause and cut the man down where he stood.

"Flint, you really shouldn't be pointing your gun at the one person on this whole ship that actually cares about you. The way you run things, if you ever ended up in a situation where you needed to be carried away from danger, I'm the only one here who would do so. As someone who cares about you, I don't believe you would want to kill the boy. For that reason, I will not move. Tell me if you want to kill Ace and I will move. Say the words "I want to kill Ace now" and I will step aside."

Rasputan waited. He had no intention of letting Ace die. If Flint said those words. He would step aside, he would move… into Flint's face as he punched the man out. He would remove Ace from the ship and depart never to return, but only if Flint said he wanted to kill Ace. He hadn't yet, so Rasputan waited.

The tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The crew remained hidden, only their heads visible from behind the various areas on deck that offered cover, the clashing wills of the two men seeming to electrify the air. No one dared to speak.

Flint threw down the whip and the handle swung toward Rasputan to dangle from his arm. "Take the insolent cur to the brig. No one is to touch him or approach for any reason until I say otherwise."

Quarken, who stood outside the door to his medical ward, grimaced. As much as he hated wasting his good medicine on deserved and self-inflicted injuries, he hated more having injured onboard he couldn't heal. Rasputan watched Flint stalk off as two crewmen rushed to do as ordered. That order was as good as a death sentence. The wounds were serious enough that without medical treatment, Ace would bleed to death. Still, Flint hadn't insisted on finishing the job. That was good.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This is when you start to realize how dangerous Rasputan is.

Ace's situation has become incredibly tenuous.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	26. A Return to Life

**TRIGGER WARNING**: The following chapter contains a suicide attempt event. While the suicide is not successful, some readers may find the lead up disturbing and triggering. Reader Discretion is advised.

Chapter 26: A Return to Life

When Ace awoke, the first then he felt was surprise that he was waking up. He was supposed to have been killed. Beaten to death by his captain's fury. So, it took him a minute to accept that he wasn't dead.

The second thing he noticed was that he was numb. He could feel the pressure of things lying on him and what he was laying on but having been severely flogged shouldn't he be, at minimum, aching? He'd been flogged before, not to this degree, but he always awoke hurting in some way. He either ached or his back was on fire depending on how long after the beating he was awakening. To not feel anything was odd.

Ace then began to take in his surroundings. He was lying on his stomach, no surprise there, but he was sleeping in a bed. A proper bed not the thinly padded cot in the medical ward. Ace had seen beds when he peered through the windows of the more well-to-do citizens of Goa. He had never been in one. He had always slept on the floor in the bare minimum of a futon or in a hammock while he was here on the ship.

He could tell from his angle that he was above the floor by a couple of feet and he was lying on a rectangle of sheets that had more cushion than they would if they were mere sheets. Another blanket was tucked around his shoulders and his face was half buried into the softest pillow he had ever felt. Sunlight entered the room through sheer curtains that softened the light.

The outlines of light-stones hanging on the other side could be seen on the semitransparent fabric. Trays of growing herbs crowded shelves near the windows, that were rectangle instead of round. A table with a shelf of books above it sat against the far wall; the door just to the left. The table had a mortar, a couple of bowls, a flame dial, and a few wooden spoons. Bunches of herbs hung from the ceiling to dry. A wood barrel sat to the left of the door with a wooden tub just in front of it, large enough to hold a seated person. Finally, a hammock hung from the ceiling beams along the wall opposite the windows. The scene was so alien that Ace briefly wondered if he had died after all.

He tried to push himself up and that's when the pain hit. White hot agony lanced up his back, carving rows of fire into his shoulders. He dropped back onto the bed with a stifled cry. No, he was definitely alive.

"So, you're finally awake," said a heavily accented baritone.

Ace swallowed as the pulses of raging pain died to throbs. He carefully turned his head and saw the Cossack sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. He wasn't wearing his fur cap or red coat and somehow seemed to attract all the shadows in the room to him. His features were darkened while the room seemed brighter everywhere else.

"Why?" gasped Ace, his voice hoarse. A few whimpers escaped when he hadn't meant them to. Why was he here and not dead?

"Not your concern," replied Rasputan as he pulled the covers off him.

Ace was in nothing but his flaming boxers and bandages that wrapped his entire torso and shoulders. The bandages were discolored but not red.

"Hold still," directed Rasputan. He slid an arm beneath Ace's chest and lifted the young man up. The throbbing increased as his weight shifted, Ace panted as he tried to suppress his cries. With the other hand, the Cossack began to undo the bandages, unwinding them from around the young man's torso. Once the bandages were off, he laid Ace back down.

Ace tried to look again at his back but Rasputan put a hand against his face and pressed it back down into the pillow. It wasn't a hard push, a gentle touch that blocked his vision until he complied with laying his head back down.

"It would be best if you didn't look," said Rasputan as he reached for a bowl of water with a cloth in it. It was sitting on a chair near him. There were other items there, but the large bowl obscured Ace's view and he couldn't tell what they were.

Rasputan's hands were gentle, gentler than Quarken's had ever been when tending him. He plucked at whatever had been placed on his back, Ace suspected they were herb poultices, removing the spent plant material. Feeling slowly returned to Ace's back and with it the ache and searing pain he had been missing. Ace hissed and gasped as the man worked.

Once the herbs were removed the wounds were cleaned. Ace buried his face into the pillow to stifles his screams. Rasputan wasn't raking his lacerations, he was being as careful as he could be, they were just that bad. The Cossack ignored Ace's weeping. Quarken would've told him to stop being a pansy.

A cool liquid was dripped into the wounds once the washcloth was put away. White hot flames of molten agony cooled with each drop, until he was once again numb. Ace shuddered as he struggled to get his breathing back under control.

"Why?" Ace croaked out. The word may have been the same as the last, but the question was entirely different. Why do you have that?

"In case you broke your other foot," replied Rasputan. The Cossack had accurately interpreted the one-word question and Ace took it to mean the numbing liquid had been acquired after his ankle surgery. It made sense to him that it hadn't been used when all the injuries were relatively minor or caused by punishment. So, it was strange Rasputan was using it now when this was caused by punishment as well.

Unless his wounds were that bad.

Ace glanced back and saw the Cossack threading a hooked needle and turned his face away. Whenever he had to get stitches, watching the needle at work always made him queasy. Thanks to the numbing agent, Ace only felt the pressure of the prick and not the stabbing pain.

All this brought a thought to Ace's sluggish mind. Why was Rasputan, not Quarken, treating him? And why was he in Rasputan's private cabin? Taking up his very comfortable and soft bed?

"Why?" croaked Ace a third time. Damn his dry throat and abused voice box! He had screamed quite a bit as he was being whipped.

"Not your concern," replied Rasputan as he continued to stitch shredded flesh. Ace scowled but Rasputan wasn't even looking at him. No point in repeating the question, he was certain the man had understood him the first time. Besides he wouldn't be able to speak more than one word anyway and it would not be enough to clarify his meaning if the Cossack didn't understand.

Rasputan's fingers pressed into Ace's back and pushed on an area. That area slid. Ace tried not to think about it as Rasputan began stitching once again.

Moist poultice was spread across the closed wounds once he was finished, then a small blanket was placed over the top to separate it from the covers. With wounds closed, bandages were not needed. The poultice would absorb what little fluid escaped the seal. The covers themselves were pulled up and tucked around Ace's neck, leaving only his head exposed.

"You should sleep some more," said Rasputan as he placed an ornate bowl with matching top next to the bed. Thin smoke escaped through narrow slits in the lid. Ace felt his eyes grow heavy and soon he was fast asleep again.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ace didn't know how long he slept, but it was dark out when he woke next. He was groggier than the first time he woke and, without thinking, pushed himself up. His shoulders throbbed but it was bearable. The covers slid off him along with the small blanket and much of the, now dry, poultice. Ace groaned softly as he glanced at the mess.

"Don't fuss. If I wanted to avoid that I would have bandaged you up properly." Rasputan was sitting near the table with the mortar. He turned to regard Ace. "I noticed that you heal quickly and completely, but even so, you shouldn't have been able to sit up like that just yet."

Ace just stared at Rasputan without comment. He couldn't get his groggy brain to process the long sentences.

Rasputan rose and came over with a bowl in one hand. "Eat this. No one can think straight on an empty stomach. And all this healing has eaten away what little fat you had. Your muscles are being cannibalized and your organs are next if you don't get some nutrition into you."

The Cossack steadied the bowl as Ace struggled to take it from him. His arms trembled and the bowl felt as heavy as a boulder. Ace took the spoon and scooped some of the unidentifiable mass into his mouth. And nearly chocked. It had all the consistency of a mud cake and less flavor than tar. The grogginess vanished and Ace stared at the man in disbelief. He wanted to spit it out.

Rasputan scowled and said, "I'll give you soap chip to wash the flavor from your tongue after you've swallow all of it. If you spit it out, though, I will turn it into porridge and pour it down your throat with tube."

Ace managed to choke down the hideous concoction. Rasputan did offer a soap chip but also a tankard of water. Ace took the tankard, while ignoring the chip, and slowly drank it, pausing a few times to slosh it around his mouth until the aftertaste had faded. The water felt so good on his parched throat.

Ace took a few breaths and then asked, "Why are you doing this?" His voice was still low and hoarse, but he was able to speak a full sentence.

"As I said, not your concern," replied Rasputan.

"You should've just let me die," said Ace.

Rasputan sat back and crossed his arms. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

The Cossack regarded Ace for a moment then turned back to his desk. He picked up a small bottle with a pointed lid. It was a transparent purple, the liquid within dark, its exact color unknown due to the bottle's hue.

"Then stop being a baby about it," said Rasputan as he placed the bottle on the tiny nightstand, more like a glorified stool, next to the bed. "If you truly wish to die then you shouldn't wait for someone to kill you. You should do it yourself."

Ace stared at the man in disbelief. He had just done a lot of work on Ace and yet he was telling him to just die if he wanted to?

"This potion," continued Rasputan as he gestured toward the bottle, "if you truly want to die, will kill you straight away. If you want to die, swallow it now. If not, then shut your mouth and don't ask me why I do what I do again."

Ace looked at the bottle then back at Rasputan. He took a deep breath and grabbed the small purple bottle. Rasputan just watched and said nothing. Ace removed the glass pointed stopper and swallowed the contents in one gulp. The liquid left a sweet and creamy aftertaste; shouldn't poisons be bitter?

Ace let out a breath as he waited for it to take effect, he felt at peace for the first time in months. It would all be over soon, his questionable existence along with his imprisonment by Flint. He would be free again soon and no one could hurt him or threaten him again.

Luffy's laughing face flashed in his mind and a tear slid down his cheek.

Rasputan, watching him from his chair, unmoving, then said, "It will kill you straight away if you truly want to die. However, this potion is no simple poison. It will only kill you if you are fully committed to death."

The world began to spin away as Ace tried to understand what Rasputan was telling him.

Rasputan leaned forward and said with a smirk. "I don't think you are as committed as you think you are."

The world was swallowed by darkness.

Ace floated through the inky blackness. He wondered at Rasputan's final words when two lights floated toward him. They paused and formed into two people. Aaron and the Marine woman.

"Why are you here?" asked Ace. Why would they want to see their killer? Was it closure they sought?

"You'd end your life just like that when you are given a second chance to live?" said Aaron. He shook his head in dismay. "I would give anything for that chance."

"I would give you my chance if I could," said Ace. Was he upset that Ace was dying? Shouldn't he be thrilled with his murderer's death?

"But you can't. All you can do is live for us," said the Marine woman. Her too?

"You're a Marine and I'm a pirate," started Ace, trying to make sense of the conversation.

"We all go to sea knowing we may die any day out there for any reason," she said.

"I killed you!"

She smiled at him and Ace wished she hadn't. "I forgave you. I feared capture more. I knew the stories of Flint. I cursed my Commander for his reckless orders. I regretted not being able to do my final task. I was grateful when you killed me quick and as clean as possible given the weapon you had. You saved me from dishonor and suffering."

"I never blamed you. I could tell you didn't want to strike, but I was just as dead as all the others the moment we mistakenly struck the Maiden. You didn't kill me, Flint did," said Aaron.

It was too much. Ace didn't want to be forgiven. He was not worthy of it, but he couldn't rebuke them. It was their decision. It only made him hate himself even more. They were good people and he had killed them. He would have to kill even more if he stayed with Flint, he didn't want to do it again! He couldn't do it again!

The ghosts faded, leaving him alone. He blinked and he stood in a sunlit room in someone's house, a house he had never seen before he was sure. What now? He heard a baby crying behind him and turned. Garp stood a few feet from a bed where an elderly couple hovered anxiously. Surprised, Ace strode forward to see what they were looking at.

In the bed a blonde woman with a hibiscus flower in her hair cuddled a newborn baby.

"If a girl, Ann, if a boy, Ace. Our child Gol D. Ace!" she said with a bright smile. Ace felt his stomach twist. This was the day he was born. The woman kissed her son then sighed and collapsed. The elderly woman cried out her name as she caught the baby. The old man wept. They then turned and handed the child to Garp who looked down at the small thing with sadness in his eyes.

"Ace?" a voice called from behind him. It was the same voice of the woman from the vision of his birth, the voice of his mother, Rouge.

He turned and there she stood. The blackness was back as if it had never left. She smiled at him and held out her arms. Ace fell into them, letting himself be held and comforted by his mother. How he had wanted this for so long. Just to be held and soothed like the other children he had seen. He had always had to be tough, to be strong, because he had no one who would hold him when he wasn't. To kiss away his fears and his pain. To reassure him that everything would be all right no matter how not all right it seemed.

She didn't say anything more. She didn't judge him or criticize him. Rouge just held her child and let her natural love flow over him like the sun on an early summer day. He didn't know how much time had passed while he just basked in her warmth before she kissed his forehead, her expression sad.

"I love you, Ace," she whispered.

"I love you, too." He wanted to say it, but the words were so foreign that they caught in his throat. His tongue turned fat and stupid, refusing to work properly. Rouge smiled at him.

"I know," she said as if she read his mind when his mouth refused to work. It wasn't the same, though, he had to say it right!

She was gone in an instant as if she had been snatched, unlike the previous specters that had faded away when they departed. Where her hands had been only a faint warmth remained. He felt cold as if naked and gasped at the sudden departure.

"Mother?" Ace spun around, trying to see where she had gone. He couldn't run. There didn't seem to be anyway for him to move beyond rotating. "Mother!"

The inky blackness bulged and redefined itself as dark clouds that swirled around him. A deep voice he had never heard spoke, but not to him.

"A three hundred million beri bounty, that Mugiwara really did it this time. They'll accept me as a warlord for sure if I capture him and hand him over." The unseen man laughed as the clouds rippled then blasted Ace. He raised his arms to protect his face from the wind and clouds. When it stopped, he looked up and gasped.

He was floating in the air in front of Marine Headquarters. He had never seen it before but what else could it be? The great building with the symbol of the seagull painted on its wall dominated the harbor that was well armed. Marines stood everywhere in the courtyard, painting the ground white with their coats and uniforms. They were standing around a platform and two executioners stood atop it along with two Marines. One seemed to be in charge. The other was his grandfather, Garp.

Garp wasn't actually standing, he was sitting, his head bowed as tears fell down his face. Why?

Then Ace saw what the gathering was for. Luffy. His little brother knelt between the executioners; his hands chained behind him to the platform. Ace's stomach plunged. They were executing his brother. They were going to kill Luffy!

Ace tried to shout but no sound emerged. He tried to run forward, but his body didn't move. He realized then what was happening. He was dead. He was dead and he had to watch as his little brother was executed. He wasn't there to save him from this. All he could do was watch as his brother's dreams came to a horrendous end. That man in the black clouds had captured Luffy and given him to the Marines.

Ace stared, tears filling his eyes. _Don't just sit there, Jiijii! Save him! Why are you letting him die? Did you hate our becoming Pirates that much_? The swords of the executioners rose. _Please! Jiijii! Don't let him die!_ Ace struggled to swim through the air, but it was useless. _Jiijii!_ The swords came down.

"LUFFY!"

Ace sat upright his hand held out before him. He was sitting in a bed, within a cabin that had sunlight streaming into it and plants lining shelves in front of those windows. His back roared in protest to his motion.

"And that is why I soundproofed my cabin," muttered a deep baritone from his right. Ace turned and Rasputan, still sitting in his chair, looked at him and said, "Welcome back to the land of living."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The warning is due to the fact that Rasputan, instead of trying to talk Ace out of dying, says hurry up and get it over with. Never mind, he used a potion and not a straight poison that had the ability to draw Ace out of his depression.

Yes, he was seeing Paramount War with Luffy and not him on the execution platform. Unfortunately, he couldn't see Blackbeard and there is a reason why he couldn't but that detail becomes important later so I'm not going to say it now.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	27. Focusing on the Future

Chapter 27: Focusing on the Future

"57… 58… 59…" Ace huffed with each push up. Sweat covered his naked torso and dripped onto the floor. He couldn't believe how hard this simple exercise had become. Last month he could have done two hundred without breaking a sweat now he was struggling to do better than fifty. He had surpassed yesterday's count, but he could tell he reached his limit for the day. The muscles in his back burned and his arms trembled as he tried to make an even sixty.

"60!" he exclaimed before collapsing onto the floor.

"Congratulation, you did four better than yesterday," said Rasputan as he entered the cabin. The Cossack's cabin was one of the largest on the ship with Quarken's medical ward and Flint's Captain's cabin being the only rooms bigger. And those rooms had the dual purpose of entertaining others not exclusive privacy like Rasputan's.

The windows were the same style as the ones in Flint's cabin and Ace had the unnerving thought that that cabin was on the other side of the wall from the bed he was continuing to occupy. Rasputan still slept in his hammock despite Ace's improved health. The young man thought he'd be booted from the bed once his wounds had closed and he no longer needed to sleep on his stomach, but Rasputan made no such demand.

Ace lay on the floor moaning. He didn't think he could get himself off it. It was unfair at how well Rasputan timed his arrivals. Until a moment ago, Ace had been alone in the cabin.

The Cossack nudged him in the ribs with his black boot. "Now climb into the tub so I can wash the stick off you before it saturates the whole room."

Ace glared cross-eyed at the indifferent floorboards. Rasputan was a thorough nursemaid. He had set up the exercise routine Ace had just finished. He also was in control of Ace's food, since Ace wasn't allowed to leave the cabin. He then had Ace bathe twice a day in the little tub he had in the room and he wouldn't let Ace wash himself. Ace had to either sit or stand there while Rasputan dumped herbal water all over him and scrubbed him. The day would then finish with Ace laying on the bed while Rasputan pushed, shoved, rubbed, poked and kneaded the muscles in his back and shoulders. By this time, his muscles felt like bricks and the effort to turn them back into flesh hurt like hell. Ace hated that part of the day, but the results were obvious. He would sleep deeply and awaken only a little sore and fully able to repeat the cycle all over again. Sigh.

Ace remembered the conversation he had with him after he woke up from drinking the potion that was supposed to kill him.

"_As I said before you went under, that was a potion not a poison. It would kill you if you truly wanted to die but only if you were fully committed. What you dreamed was the potion detecting your hesitation and acting on it."_

_Ace was still shaking from the image of Luffy being executed and hissed, "So everything I saw was just a dream I created because I didn't really want to die."_

"_No."_

_Ace stared not sure what to make of that response._

"_What you saw was real. The potion will come at your psyche from multiple angles when it detects hesitation in order to encourage a desire to live. It was actually developed to help those with suicidal inclinations to overcome those feelings. Lies and illusions would not accomplish that, only the truth would. If the person was truly committed to death, then there was nothing in this world that could change their mind._

"_The potion can summon the dead to try to encourage you. It can show you events of the past." He paused as he leaned forward to say the final thing. "And it can show you things yet to come."_

_Ace felt cold. Events yet to come… the future. Was Luffy doomed to be executed in the future?_

"_What did you see, Ace?"_

_Ace hesitated. He didn't want to talk about his little brother with anyone on the crew. He didn't want them to find him and hurt him because of Ace. It was, though, an irrational fear, he realized, since Flint was not likely to hunt down some boy just because his big brother was on his ship. Trying to use Luffy as a hostage would be more trouble than its worth._

"_I saw my little brother being executed after someone turned him in so they could become a warlord," Ace replied in a whisper after a moment._

"_Your brother is still at home now, correct?"_

_Ace nodded. "We agreed we would head out to sea once we turned seventeen to form our own crews."_

_Rasputan rolled his eyes, probably thinking about how ill prepared Ace was and not having much hope for the younger one. "So, someone became government sponsored pirate for turning him in. That means he becomes a big deal in the future."_

"_Why would it show me something so horrible? I don't want to see that!" hissed Ace._

"_That was the future that will happen if you are dead."_

_Ace jerked as if he had been hit. Will happen if he was dead? "Are you saying it won't if I'm alive?"_

_Rasputan shrugged. "The future is not set in stone. The living can change it at any time. So, it might still happen even if you are alive. However, by being alive you have a chance to change it. Something you can't do if you are dead._

"_If there is something you want to protect, Ace, then you must first protect yourself. Because once you are dead, you can protect nothing."_

Ace took a deep breath as his mind returned to the present. He must not allow that shadowy man to get Luffy! He would need to watch for him and be ready to take him down. Three hundred million beries was a good number to watch for, to know when the fatal event was approaching. He just wished he could have seen the face of the shadowy man then he would know who to be hunting for.

His thoughts were interrupted by another jabbing toe. "I said, climb into the tub. The longer you stay on the floor the colder your overworked muscles get. All this is to encourage their repair and recovery at faster rate than normal."

"Hai," gasped Ace as he tried push himself up off the floor. A tearing sensation lanced his back and with a cry he collapsed onto the floor one more. Ace suppressed further sounds as he panted in agony and fear. Had he just reinjured himself?

Rasputan had explained before beginning this strength recovery regiment that the whip had cut muscle and even severed tendons in a few places. He had had to stitch those back together, not just skin. The Cossack had reassured Ace that his methods would allow for a full recovery, but that was because he used non-standard techniques. Anyone else and Ace would have spent the rest of his life crippled. Ace had done everything as instructed without complaint after that explanation.

Ace lay there, too afraid to move and risk making it worse. Rasputan knelt and examined the young man, his fingers sliding across his skin and muttering to himself. Ace felt heat wherever the fingers touched, a gentle heat that calmed angry nerves. After a half a minute, Rasputan slid an arm under Ace's chest and pulled him to his feet. He simultaneously stripped him of his boxers.

Ace stepped out of them obediently and then into the tub while Rasputan kept his arm around him, supporting him so the overworked muscles in his back wouldn't have to. A gentle push directed Ace to sit instead of stand. Once he was settled in place, Rasputan turned to fetch the barrel of water his herbs had been soaking in all day.

How Rasputan managed to sneak a barrel of water into his room without anyone noticing was beyond Ace. The feat was mirrored by how he snuck the spent water out of the room. The next miracle was that the water was always the right temperature for Ace when he poured it over his head. Something that had sat in the room all day should have been at minimum tepid if not colder, but the barrel of water was comfortably warm, helping to relax tense muscles. And it stayed warm throughout the entire ritual that took close to an hour to complete.

Rasputan had ignored Ace when the young man asked about the warmth and Ace gave up trying to get an answer out of him about anything he was doing. The only thing Ace noticed about the Cossack's process was that before he lifted the barrel, he ran his finger around the edge while muttering. Ace thought he saw the water glow for a moment, but it was always over before he could be sure.

The warm water flowed over Ace's shoulders and down his back and chest, leaves and flowers sliding over his skin on its way to the tub bottom. The muscles in his back seemed to untie themselves from the knots they were currently forming. The water rose to submerge his crossed legs and Rasputan put the barrel down. What remained in the barrel would be used to rinse him off. Ace always felt sad about that. He longed for the chance to soak in a proper bath, neck deep in water and steamy warmth. He never realized how bad he could miss that.

Rasputan soaked the cloth in the water within the tub, scooping up leaves and flowers, and dripping them onto Ace shoulders. "You didn't tear anything, it was just mad at you, that's all."

Ace let out a sigh of relief.

"That being said, I'm going to have to work them very hard or else you won't be able to do anything tomorrow."

_Of course_, thought Ace, already not looking forward to Rasputan's therapeutic massage session.

"Though, it might be best if you let your body rest tomorrow, anyway," added Rasputan as he smeared more soaked leaves and flower petals onto Ace's back.

_Great, bed rest_. Ace hated bed rest. Laying in a bed all day with nothing to do but sleep and eat was not how he enjoyed spending his time. At least the exercises kept him busy, with naps completely justified and encouraged. This would be torture by boredom.

"Don't fret. I will go and get your textbook from Flint and you can work on all your missed assignments. You don't want Flint to be mad you were slacking off once he gets over himself."

Ace didn't know which statement to react to. His suddenly having to study again, and somehow catch up on his missed assignments, or Rasputan saying Flint needed to get over himself. Ace didn't know what he meant by that, but he was sure it had something to do with his being confined to Rasputan's cabin.

Which reminded him… "Uh… Rasputan-san, why am I being housed in your personal quarters?" asked Ace in a low voice.

Rasputan never paused in his action as he answered. "Because Flint told the crew to take you to brig and leave you be until he said otherwise. You were bleeding all over and needed medical attention, yet he wouldn't let Quarken work on you. He as good as sentenced you to death. So, I brought you to my room instead and treated you myself."

Ace insides grew cold. Flint had sentenced him to death and Rasputan had refused to follow orders. "Won't Flint be mad at you?"

"Like I care. Besides, when Flint loses his temper, truly loses his temper, he makes very poor decisions. Decisions that he always regrets later. Now, let me make this clear before you say anything else. Flint was mad about Syren, yes. You were definitely going to be flogged for that bit of stupidness. However, it was Quillan that provoked his wrath. You were just a convenient target. Flint has put too much investment into your development to throw you away like that. That's why I intervened."

Ace sighed. His head hurt. He felt like the teddy bear a pair of kids would fight over. With the end result being the bear was torn in half.

"So how long will it take for him to 'get over himself', as you say?"

Rasputan snorted. "However long it takes him to calm down enough to finally realize that there was no way that someone as badly injured as you could pick the brig's lock, climb the stairs to the deck, then throw himself overboard without anyone seeing or at least not without leaving a blood trail from the brig to the railing."

"Why does he think that's what happened?" Ace asked slowly.

"When he saw you were missing, he was beside himself, wondering where you disappeared to. I suggested that since you had been left unattended, you had picked the lock and thrown yourself overboard in a fit of suicide."

"Why did you say that?"

"To make him live what he almost caused. It is a type of punishment. He knows his temper is no good and he needs to remember not to lose it. He does not have lots of practice since his temper is actually very long. The smart Flint knows my suggestion doesn't make sense, but he's too upset to pay that part any heed right now."

Ace's mind whirled again. _Rasputan_ was punishing _Flint_?! Ace thought his world would flip if he thought anymore on that so focused on another revelation. "Upset?"

"That is a good sign. He is actually worried about you. If he hadn't cared I would have ended my tenure aboard this ship that night and taken you to Desiree. The vice-admiral would have kept you safe from Flint and would not have judged you badly for your time here. Even with the incident with Commander Archigold. She is actually a very understanding woman and I could tell she is interested in saving you from all this."

Ace swallowed. Rasputan had planned to do that, why? However, Ace suspected he would get the same answer he got to all his why questions of this nature.

"_None of your concern."_

So, he didn't bother asking, though, he was dying to. He was really tired of hearing things that affected him were not his concern, but there was no point dwelling on the could have been. Flint wasn't acting in a way that would inspire Rasputan to carry out that plan. It wasn't going to happen, so, the why was not important. Instead he focused his next question on more immediate matters.

"So how long am I going to be stuck here?" he asked.

"Until Flint shoots Quillan or demands I hand you over to him, whichever comes first."

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Ace took a lot of damage from that whipping. Rasputan actually specializes in healing and support rather than attack so he can help Ace.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	28. Confessions

Chapter 28: Confessions

Rasputan adjusted Ace's regiment to include study time. He also insisted on Ace decreasing the amount he pushed himself during the physical parts. Ace still wasn't where he had been prior to his severe beating, but the Cossack felt the young man had reached a point where he needed to allow a more natural progression in his recovery. Apparently, he could only super speed his recovery for so long before it started having the opposite effect. Ace wasn't thrilled with any of this, but he followed instruction. As cavalier as Rasputan was acting toward all this, he was still taking a tremendous risk.

However, after a week on the new regiment, Ace was ready to claw the wood from the walls. As much as he dreaded having to return to duties on the ship, he couldn't stand being in Rasputan's cabin another moment.

Ace knew the routines of the ship. After dark, the lanterns were doused across the ship's deck and curtains drawn to hide interior lights. A lookout would position himself in the crow's nest while another crewman would stand at the helm, the two switching with fresh crew at midnight. If they were in open water, the Maiden would sail throughout the night, if they were near shallows or land, she would drop anchor and wait for daybreak before moving again. The darkness of the ship prevented her being spotted by others, the last thing Flint wanted was a confrontation in the middle of the night. It also allowed the lookouts to see more easily in the dark. Even on a moonless night, the starlight provided enough for eyes adjusted to the dark. They would see trouble coming long before it saw them.

Ace figured he could leave Rasputan's cabin after midnight when everyone was asleep. He entertained no illusions of escape. When at berth, there were always two men to watch the deck and make sure no one was slipping aboard. They would not miss his trying to climb off. At sea, the lookout would notice his trying to row away in a longboat even if the helmsman was deaf to his stealing it. The pullies were only greased enough to function, not turn silently. Ace wondered if that was how it was always done or if it was adjusted just for him.

No, he was trying to sneak out so he could do some of his chores in the dark of the night. He already knew how to keep from disturbing everyone and the activities would help work muscles that his exercises weren't catching. With how weak he felt, no way could he continue the same rate of completion. Wanting to avoid being scolded for being slow, he had to get back to his original rate as soon as possible. Or, at least, he had to build a little goodwill credit by getting back to it before he had to. He didn't count on the later.

Ace had gotten good at being able to rouse himself and he rose at midnight. On a ship where everyone was expected to rise at dawn, no one stayed awake late into the night. The watch would have switched by now so there would be no risk running into a tired sailor heading to his bed. The lookout would be searching the sea and helmsman would be focused on the ship's course or keeping his own weather eye on the horizon. Neither would care about any late-night activities as long as they were quiet and didn't involve light.

Rasputan slept without snoring, which was completely unnatural in Ace's opinion. What man sleeps without uttering a sound? It had unnerved Ace the first time he realized that. The young man thought Rasputan was awake. It had taken several hours for him to accept the man slept silently. Which blew his first night of trying to do chores and left him cranky the next day. He snuck out the second night without hesitation.

The first thing he did was check on the laundry. It was usually his first chore of the day since it was indoors and disturbed no one. There wasn't much. With him gone, the task had reverted to Jason. Ace did what was available and mended what needed it. He hated sewing but knew it would be expected of him once he officially returned. He needed to make sure he could still do it right before it became his sole responsibility again. That having taken less time than he had anticipated, he moved on to next chore.

He moved through all of them, cannon maintenance, rope inspections, hold inspections, and all of them, having been taken up by others once he disappeared, were completed sooner than expected. What was left were the outdoor chores, swabbing the deck and longboat inspections. He couldn't do longboat inspections without using the light-stone he had borrowed from Rasputan's collection. Rasputan only sheathed them when it was overcast or stormy but let them hang in the window otherwise. Oddly the stones didn't glow at night unless they were in total darkness. The faint starlight was enough to shut them down, but they had no such reaction to fire light. Ace hadn't asked why that was. He had given up asking that man why about anything.

It was just as well. Any light on deck would attract attention. While Ace would have liked to practice his longboat inspections, the internal hull inspections would have to suffice. So instead, he risked the swabbing.

The first night made him tremendously nervous, but when nothing happened, he became more confident. By the third night he had his routine figured out. Ace didn't believe Rasputan hadn't realized what he was doing, but, like in Des Moor, he was letting Ace figure out the work around.

Then it happened on the sixth morning.

Dawn was still an hour away and Ace was about to wrap up his cleaning of the deck when he was suddenly pressed against the wall.

"Where have ye been this whole time, lad?" Flint's low voice was a dangerous purr to Ace's ears.

Ace swallowed but refused to answer the true meaning of the question. He was not going to sell out someone who had taken the time to help him, no matter that they told him not to worry about it.

"On the ship, you just didn't bother to look very hard."

The hand that pinned him pinched his shoulder. "That's not an answer." Ace held his tongue. Flint growled and flipped the back of his shirt up. Ace focused on his breathing, trying not to let on how anxious he was. Was he about to get hit or something worse? Flint's fingers traced the barely visible scars on his back, a little sun and they would tan right out of existence. Rasputan's healing ointments were remarkable.

Flint let the shirt fall back down then spun Ace around. The emerald eyes of the middle-aged Captain met Ace's young ebony ones. There were no glints of anger in them. They were calm as he studied the young man.

"Why did ye help her? Was her favor so intoxicating that ye would do anything she said? Do ye think it was love she was gifting ye with? The kind that would move a man to die for a woman?" asked Flint, ridicule evident in his tone. "She is not that kind of woman. She just used ye to get what she wanted. Ye nearly threw yer life away for a harlot."

Ace blushed, knowing exactly what Flint was saying. However, he could give his captain the honest truth. Whether the man accepted him back or finished him off, lying would not help his cause. If Flint wanted to condemn him for his feelings, then so be it.

"I know," said Ace, his voice low as emotions he had buried within began to rise. He felt shame as the tears filled his eyes, he had wanted to say this without them, but there was no going back now.

"Ye know?" Flint repeated slowly as if he hadn't heard Ace correctly.

"I know," repeated Ace as he stared back at Flint. "I knew she was using me. I knew she was a lie. I knew it. But it still hurt anyway."

Flint raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his grip on Ace's shoulder softened, feeling more supportive instead of restraining. Ace dismissed that assessment as mere wishful thinking, Flint was never supportive. He took a deep breath and continued.

"She… She gave me kindness. Sympathy. She would offer her hand whenever I was kicked down. She didn't do it where anyone would see. She wasn't sugary sweet. She was just nice. The right kind of nice. She never made me feel pathetic but smoothed over the hard patches.

"I felt like a man in a desert who just found water. You can smell the foulness but still drink it because you can't do anything else. You need it as much as it makes things worse.

"It hurt. It hurt so bad. It made everything happening on this… ship… so much worse. So much harder to tolerate, to handle. That's why I tried to run to Jiijii. I couldn't take it anymore. Before she came onboard, I wouldn't have even considered running to him. But I couldn't take it anymore, the night and day difference. I just wanted her gone."

Flint regarded Ace for a moment as he contemplated what the young man had just confessed. "Yer actions could have cost ye yer life. They almost did."

"I know. I wanted to die. I thought if I let her leave, I would either be rid of her or dead afterwards. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to die, for it to over. All over."

Flint sighed. He didn't seem to know what to do about that. After a moment, he spoke again. "Do ye still want to die?"

Ace shook his head and met Flint's gaze again. "No."

Flint studied Ace for a moment more, then patted his shoulder and turned away. "Good. Finish up here then head to galley. I'll let Silver know he needs to feed ye double portions for a while. Ye're skinnier than a scarecrow. Rasputan wasn't able to filch nearly enough food for ye."

Ace stiffened, shocked at the casual name drop, then cringed as he realized his reaction would have confirmed Flint's guess.

Flint smiled at him, an amused smile and strangely reassuring. "When Jaeger mentioned he had seen ye wandering about deck, it hit me what was going on. I felt so stupid for not seeing it sooner."

Ace turned red with embarrassment. He had been spotted working but had been left alone. Or, more likely, had been observed. Ace glanced again at Flint. "You're not mad at him for defying orders?"

"That implies he was under my command to start with," replied Flint with a laugh.

Ace's jaw dropped. "He isn't?"

Flint laughed again. It started with a quiet chuckle then rolled into him throwing his head back and belting out guffaws as his shoulders shook. Ace stared wide-eyed at the man, suddenly wondering just who was standing there and where Flint had gone.

"Ace," Flint said once he got himself under control. "That man's a cat! He wandered into my life when I was setting all this up and he'll wander out without so much of a parting tail flick when it suits him. Sure, he does what I ask to avoid stirring up trouble with the crew out of politeness to me, but he has always done as he pleases. There have been times he has wandered off this ship to do who-know-what only to turn up months later as if he never left.

"He does seem to have taken a personal interest in ye, though. Something I have seen him do only once and it was indirectly. Ye see, almost fifteen years ago he disappeared from the ship. A time later I saw an article recounting a mission failure by the then Admiral Hakuryu. There was a picture where the nearly dead man was being carried into a Marine hospital. Ras was the one doing the carrying. When he finally returned to the ship, months later, I asked him about that. He shrugged and said he just pitied a man whose entire command, as well as his younger brother, had died so that he could return home to his family when their mission went horrendously wrong. He then said, it was a pity that the admiral's wife and children were murdered in his absence."

Ace swallowed. He had saved an admiral? Ace wondered who the admiral was that had lost everything except his life. Then his mind turned to a more immediate concern. Who was Rasputan that he would save an admiral while hanging out on the most notorious pirate ship in the world and why was he so interested in Ace? However, Flint didn't have the answer to that. He just accepted Rasputan and all his quirks. Just like he would a cat that had decided to adopt the ship. Cats would randomly adopt things.

"Now, hurry up," said Flint, starling Ace with sharpness of his order. "I want ye back on yer regular routine by this time tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So Ace is back on the crew through his own actions. Though, nothing is going to go back to normal just yet, but at least he won't be killed.

And we learn a little more about Rasputan. Now I wonder who that admiral could be?

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	29. Prelude to Trouble

Chapter 29: Prelude to Trouble

They had taken the Marigold and secured her bounty of exotic furs and rare Kels' crocodile skins. The furs and skins of Kels were luxury items that would fetch a high price in the markets of the Inari Archipelago. The Marigold had been transporting them to Danube to appease the expensive tastes of the king who had used blackmail to force the Dukes of Kels to offer it at a below market rate.

Furs and skins could not be stored in the smuggler's hold and were not something that should stay on a ship for long due to the moisture. Ordinarily this would not be a cargo Flint would go after because he couldn't hide it, but he had made a deal with the dukes. They had given him the papers that proved the cargo was his so he would pass any inspection. In exchange, they just wanted the percentage they would have received from selling it to Inari like they wanted with the added bonus of Flint returning with that percentage and a cargo hold full of Inari's Sapphire Dragon Fruit. Flint was happy to oblige their generous request.

Of course, the Dukes had had no idea Flint was a pirate, never mind Flint, they just knew that Flint had expressed a willingness to play pirate on their behalf. The Dukes would be paid by the King of Danube their paltry sum for the skins only to have the cargo stolen by a pirate. The Dukes had assured Flint that the "blackmail" problem would be taken care of by the time word of the theft had reached the king. The Dukes would come out richer than they would have been and gotten revenge on the King of Danube. Flint would get the hefty profit of both the skins and the fruit and whatever else he found on the Marigold. It was a great deal for both parties.

If there was any concern that Flint's double life would be discovered through this, well that was why Flint never had an issue with imposters. They were the best cover for these types of jobs. The Dukes would just assume Flint had flown a fake flag to force the surrender and would chuckle at his brilliance in finding a way to play pirate without having to work for it.

There had been a few women passengers aboard the Marigold and things had gotten dicey when a couple of the crew wanted to take them with them. However, Flint's orders extended to all passengers as well and they had known that. When they tried to insist Flint shot the men and threw their bodies overboard. To those on the Marigold this had affirmed this was indeed Flint and the doubts that had been creeping into the eyes of the captain vanished. Ace was grateful Flint at least followed his own rules of engagement. He didn't know what he'd do if they brought female captives onboard. It had reminded him of the barmaids, Susan and Mia, from long ago.

Some of the men shook her heads over their companions' folly. Others shook their heads over the women. None challenged Flint's orders again as they moved the cargo over to their ship and searched every closet for hidden treasure. There were actually a few hidden catches. The Marigold was a smuggling craft as well. The cramp nature of her hold tipped the crew to a second hold below and they banged on planks until the found the door.

The hidden cargo was fine spirits from the island of Sicily making them the rarest and most sought after of fine wines in the East Blue. It was claimed that Sicily made their tribute to the World Government in wine instead of gold, their drink was so delectable. The alcohol was technically outlawed by religious edicts in Danube but enjoyed by the aristocracy behind closed doors. The extra expense of smuggling made these cases worth more than double their already ludicrous worth. Flint took them as well. He wasn't going to Danube, but the Dukes of Kels might enjoy this added treat.

The men carefully loaded the cases of wine into their own smuggling hold. There was no paperwork in the world that would cover that product on their ship. Once the Marigold was emptied of everything of worth and set well on the path to bankruptcy, Flint bid their captain good day and their ships parted ways.

Ace was still amazed that Flint spent more time smuggling and trading then pirating. However, because of this, Flint was never short of funds. He had plenty of money kept in chest in the lower hold that he used to keep his ship supplied and his crew happy. With Quillan's help, he learned where all the best deals were and who was buying at the highest amount.

Flint was also adept at forging papers to cover the general goods he acquired from his raids. He would either manufacture a whole document, matching seal, wax and ribbon to the officials. Rasputan was a genius at carving seals, and Flint had a whole set of East Blue seals hidden away in secret cubbies in his cabin along with the corresponding wax blocks. Official wax seals were made with specific impurities. If the impurities were lacking or didn't match it revealed a fraudulent document. The Cossack could also mix the wax to include the specific impurities and constantly checked official documents to make sure the wax seal hadn't changed, which it occasionally did in an attempt to catch fraudsters. Official paper and ribbons were easy enough to purchase on the black-market.

Flint was also able to wash official documents, to change the numbers on the receipts to cover duplicate supplies acquired during acts of piracy. It allowed everything to match during a Marine or custom inspection. Again, Rasputan was behind the formula that the captain used to carefully remove the ink of the one spot he wanted to change without leaving a smear or wet mark that would give the change away.

Ace recalled a night where Flint had explained all this to him as he demonstrated the tricks he wanted Ace to eventually learn.

_Flint playfully flipped the quill end under Ace's nose, who was being forced to practice his letters, and said, "This is why ye need to improve yer handwriting. I want ye to be able to alter or write up these official documents yerself. That requires perfect penmanship and the ability to replicate the document's creators' style to avoid giving the game away. Ye try to pass that chicken scratch off as an official document and it's going to be obvious to a five-year-old that a clerk didnae draw it up."_

"_Yet, I'm not learning how to mix the wax or the cleaner," said Ace._

_Flint had shrugged. "Ras said he would, but he swore an oath long ago to never pass his craft onto anyone."_

"_That's it? That's the reason?"_

"_Ras has his own honor code he lives and dies by, many men do, whether they know it or not. Lines they willnae cross and all, even among pirates. If this is his line, then all ye can do is respect it."_

Ace wondered if this trade and smuggle model wouldn't be a bad thing to follow once his adventuring days were over. He could still sail where he wanted and do what he wanted. He would just have to figure out Rasputan's ability to analyze and create the wax and the seals. He could probably manage without the cleaner. Yes, Flint's model could work, he would just do it without all the bloodletting.

If he lived that long.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Despite the fine catch and the overabundance of wealth it would net for the whole crew, trouble soon followed later that night once the ale started to flow.

"It doesn't seem right that they would get shot like that over a little complaining," said one of the regular crew.

"It was only natural they would be interested in the girls," agreed another.

"Captain never wants any harm to the people on the boat if they surrender in order to encourage these surrenders. Bloody coward trying to avoid proper battle," muttered a third.

"Shush, Amos! You shouldn't be calling the captain a coward! You know damn well he ain't!" said a fourth while casting a frightened glance around the crowded room to see if any had heard outside their little group. As if there was any room for privacy in the mess hall. Many learned quickly to ignore conversation not involving them and tuned out the voices as background noise. Unfortunately, Ace was still acquiring that particular skill and he couldn't help but hear everything, he tried to ignore it, but his ears refuse to grow deaf.

"What makes you say he ain't?" insisted Amos with a sniff of disdain. "He always goes for these easy tasks when we could be challenging the greatest and winning!"

A few men snorted in amusement. "Challenging what, Amos? Whitebeard?"

"Absolutely! We have the skills! With a proper pirate ship, we could conquer the Grandline! I would never back down from such a challenge."

"Aiming to be Captain, then, Amos?" sneered one of the men.

"I could be a better Captain than him!" said Amos with a smirk.

"Sure, you could."

"Yeah, right."

"You know it!" insisted Amos in response to the skeptic remarks.

"All I know," stated a slightly older man, "is that I've been on crews where we had to steal food to eat and clothes to wear because we didn't have the gold to pay. Maybe we're not getting glory but we go where we want, get what we want, buy girls who actually know what they're doing and happy to see us return, and we get a little fun with pirates that should never have left their home villages. As far as pirating goes, we're more successful than Roger. Those girls were pretty but give me a real woman with the skills to please a man any day over a crying slip of a thing. So, stop complaining. Captain is a professional pirate not an adventuring pirate."

"He's a fucking coward who skulks in shadows and pretends to be something scary," insisted Amos. A few men were too far into their cups and were beginning to agree with him. This discussion needed to stop before they stormed the bridge.

"There is brave and there is stupid," Ace said, speaking up for the first time. The men all started then whirled to look at him, faces pale. Had they really not noticed he was sitting there until now? Ace felt like he didn't know the crew anymore. It was only a few weeks he had been locked in Rasputan's cabin, but he could have sworn that the non-officer crew had been almost completely switched out in that time. Only a few men like, Justin, he recognized from before. Ace didn't want to know if Flint being upset over his disappearance during that time had resulted in several executions. It was more likely, Ace didn't take much note of everyone because of his own attitude toward this ship as a whole and then he had been depressed.

"You know Flint has a bad leg," he continued. "It would be suicide to challenge the strongest man in the ocean with that leg. He isn't afraid of battle just of dying pointlessly and, as Justin said, he's a professional pirate not an adventuring pirate."

Amos hissed, "Are you going to rat us out, Puppy?"

Ace bristled at the mocking nickname but said "You're drunk and stupid and I think you're scum, but I actually get weirded out by how casually Flint murders his own crew and rather not see any more of it than I have to." Ace rose and swallowed the last of his coffee in one gulp, grimacing as he did. When was it supposed to stop tasting bad? "You're being stupid letting the alcohol jabber on about you being Captain. You can't be Captain. You can't beat Flint. He's too smart and he's always one step ahead. Joys of being a professional pirate, I guess. He's seen it all and lived to tell the tale. So be smart and shut up or next time it will be you being shot."

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There will be an addition to "The Dancing Bear Tavern and other shorts" where I describe the entire encounter with the Marigold. Unfortunately, I wasn't inspired when I originally wrote this, or more accurately, I wrote the first three paragraphs way back in December or January and when I went back in August to finish it, couldn't for the life of me remember what I had planned for the chapter. I ended up marrying this with part of the Mutiny chapters because they fit. It was only as I was entering the final editing stages that I finally figured out something for the Marigold.

Still I like the information about how Flint forges and alters documents to cover his piracy.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	30. Mutiny

Chapter 30: Mutiny

Ace had thought the matter closed when he walked away that night. The men had been drunk and blowing off steam over the latest execution. However, Amos and the other two had decided to act on their drunken stupidity, attempting to kill Flint while he was asleep in his cabin. Only they had mistimed their assault or, more likely, Flint had detected their intentions and made himself absent from his room.

The men had been stunned to find his bed empty only to be attacked by the bosun and Master Gunner. The three had been tied up and dragged onto the deck to be interrogated. Amos and his cohorts talked a big game while drunk, but sober they cowardly gave the names of those they had discussed their plans with from the night before. And Flint had dragged the men named from their sleeping quarters to be bound like Amos.

This was how Ace ended up kneeling on the deck at dawn with his hands tied behind his back and the rest of the crew jeering at him and the others. Ace wanted to pound Amos. The man had just thrown out the names of whoever he remembered talking to last night, not just the ones that had agreed with his foolish plan. Justin knelt next to him, similarly accused. The older man's expression was neutral. Neither had agreed to Amos's insanity but here they were as if they had. Damn Amos!

Ace was still on shaky ground with Flint. He was still fresh from having been hidden away in Rasputan's cabin for nearly a month after Flint had nearly whipped him to death and left him to bleed out. The regulars had been stunned and outraged to see his return and Ace felt even more isolated than before. It had gone back to business as usual for the officers, though, once they got over his sudden reappearance.

Silver had been disappointed and doubled his efforts to make life miserable for the young man. That took some extra special effort on the cook's part. Ace hadn't thought it possible to hate kitchen duty more than he already did, but Silver managed.

Austin didn't react at all, no surprise, he and Jaeger were tight as peas in a pod and Jaeger had been the one to spot Ace doing chores at midnight. Jason didn't care one way or the other. Scottie, oddly, was thrilled to see Ace again, hugging the young man in his joy. Jason was not mechanically inclined in any way and Scottie had no patience for the rest of the grunts who were not recruited for their brains. Ace, at least new how to spot problems on his precious engines and could do basic maintenance on them. This left the shipwright with more free time to tinker on his gadgets.

None of that would matter, though, if Flint decided he'd had it with Ace's troublemaking. A week was not long enough to prove he was done causing problems for everyone. How was he going to convince his captain that he would never be part of such a conspiracy to overthrow him? Considering how badly he had wanted, and still wanted, to get off this ship, killing Flint would grant him that freedom.

Flint had been cool with him ever since his return. They still had their lessons but the energy and passion that Flint has expressed in the weeks before was missing. It seemed to have become more of a chore than something he actually cared about. He also didn't seem to be paying as much attention to him outside of those lessons. The captain used to pop up unannounced during the day to hassle Ace about whatever he was doing. Ace had hated it then but now he felt strangely alone and vulnerable once Flint stopped. Ace felt he was on thin ice with him and he could very well not survive this.

Flint stood before them while others of the crew got to work with his preferred method of execution for mutineers. The plank.

The broad ten-foot plank was laid across the railing with the bulk of it hanging over the edge. The end facing the deck was tied in place so it would remain level and stable. Two men dumped fish innards into the water just to the side of it, bait for sharks.

"So, I'm a coward and ye would make a better Captain than me, eh?" said Flint with a half-smile as he stood at the center of the half circle that surrounded the end of the plank. Amos stared at him in wide-eyed horror as the captain spit back every declaration he had made the night before.

"Ye can take this crew and go challenge Whitebeard?" continued Flint and he barked a laugh. "Whitebeard would squash ye like a bug." The men in the front jeered.

"Captain!" cried Amos. "Mercy! I told you I was egged on. That's why I gave you the names of the others. They're responsible! They're the cowards using drink and…"

Ace finally found his voice after the momentary shock of listening to Amos throw them beneath the carriage froze his tongue. "You bastard! You're the one that had to start drunk bragging! I told you what a fucking moron you were to let…"

"You said nothing of the sort, Puppy!" snarled Amos. "You hate Flint yet are too much of a coward to…"

Ace let loose a string of expletives that were as colorful as they were diverse, a few only ever heard uttered by Flint when things had gone spectacularly wrong. He rose to his feet with the air of a man ready to enter into bloody combat. Flint put an end to the impending kick brawl with a sharp strike of his cane to the nape of Ace's neck. Ace fell back to his knees with a yelp and said no more. Amos grinned until Flint spoke his name.

"Amos…" said Flint in a cold and even tone. He turned to regard the man whose grin faded. The captain's emerald eyes were burning embers that bored into the other man. It was rare for Flint to be this worked up over a mutiny, Ace feared he was still feeling the aftershocks from the rage he experienced last month.

"Is it ready yet?" asked Flint of the men who were tossing the chum, his voice soft and full of malice. Amos and the other bound men blanched.

"Captain! I told you that little shithead egged me on…" pleaded Amos. Flint's expression held nothing but contempt for the man.

"Captain the sharks are beginning to surface," stated one of the chummers, interrupting Amos's begging.

"Then let's begin," Flint whispered into the silence. The crew had stilled their tongues when they realized how thick their captain bloodlust was. No one wanted to attract his attention after a month of having to duck their captain's wrath.

Two men stepped forward and grabbed Amos dragging the man toward the plank. Amos cried out again. "Of course, you take the side of your boytoy! I'm telling you this was all his doing! That cur planned all this!"

Ace almost rose again but Flint's presence was as good as a hand holding him down. He bit his tongue as the man was dumped unceremoniously onto the plank. The men closest to the doomed mutineer drew their swords and began prodding Amos further down the plank. Amos continued to vocalize his thoughts about Flint and Ace's relationship, becoming more vulgar as he was forced further out onto the plank. Flint said nothing as he watched Amos struggle.

Amos stood on the end of the plank, just out of reach of the swords and stared back at the crew and the captain. "You really are soft on that boy," hissed the doomed man.

"Amos," whispered Flint, "ye must think I was born yesterday. Ye're not the first to try to save his own skin by blaming others and ye sure willnae be the last. Ye were the one that walked into my cabin without permission and slashed up my sheets. It doesn't matter who talked ye into it, ye still could have decided to be smart and not do it."

It was almost as if a signal had been given to the rest of the crew. The jeering, taunting and jabbing of the victim mutineer started in earnest. Ace had no idea why the crew decided it was now safe to act on their bloodlust, but they did. With spears now added to the main two along with cudgels striking the plank, Amos was struggling to remain on the end of the board.

It had been cruelly designed to just be long enough so that if a man stood on the very end he would almost be out of touch of the longest blades. This left his balance vulnerable to the blunt strikes on the plank itself. The board shook and Amos leaned and swung his body in effort to maintain his place. Especially hard with his hands tied behind his back, and every time he leaned forward, he was poked by the spears.

His face was cut up within a half a minute. There was nothing he could say now that would save him. There was a rule that allowed a mutineer to rejoin the crew if they could get back on the ship after walking the plank, but that was just another sadistic declaration meant to get the men to try to save themselves rather than give up. All for the remaining crew's entertainment. The bound hands and the chummed water ensured there would be no survival.

Amos wobbled one last time, leaned forward, and a spear struck his eye. He snapped his head back with a scream and over he fell. The crew gathered around the railing laughing and shouting as Amos screamed again from the waters below for a brief moment before only the sound of splashing could be heard.

Ace paled along with three of the remaining prisoners. Justin was eerily quiet, perhaps resigned. Two men came over and grabbed one of the bound and dragged him to the plank as the man pleaded for his life. He didn't last nearly as long on the end of the plank as Amos did and they came again for the third man, the last of the Amos's cronies, leaving only Ace, Justin and one other who had been accused by Amos.

When the crew came for these two, Ace moved. Amos and his compatriots were the idiots that had mutinied not them. He couldn't sit still while Flint murdered men who had done nothing but sit at the wrong table. Ignoring Flint's presence, he dodged around Justin and kicked the crewman away from the other bound man, who had begun crying.

"ENOUGH!" shouted Ace and he turned to glare at Flint. The crew fell silent and stared at Ace. He didn't want to die. He couldn't die! If he died now, Luffy would be killed sometime in the future. He had to stay alive to watch for that threat, for the shadow man. However, he couldn't sit by and do nothing! If this was the day he was going to die, despite everything, then he was going down doing what he thought was right and not trembling like a frightened bunny praying to be spared.

"You got your pounds of flesh. The ones that attacked your cabin are dead. We're only here because Amos is a fucking coward who tried to save his own hide by offering us as sacrifices. You know that! You said it yourself. So why are you continuing this? We didn't do anything to deserve this!"

Flint tapped his finger on his cane's head. "Ace, we're pirates of the most bloodthirsty crew on the high seas. We've all done plenty to deserve this, many times over." Then he tilted his head as he looked at Ace and said, "Though ye aren't there yet, admittedly."

Ace plowed ahead. "I mean, you are throwing us overboard for trying to unseat you, the captain! These men didn't participate any such scheme, that's why they don't deserve to die today."

"They didnae bother to report it," stated Flint, still in a soft voice.

"Then throw me overboard and be done with it, because I didn't report either," snapped Ace, catching Flint's slip of the tongue. He had said "they" not "you". "A snitch wouldn't live long. You know that. This crew hates snitches. Maybe they couldn't kill him outright but the next fight? There was no way to know that wasn't just drunk venting."

"With this crew it is never drunk venting," stated Flint.

"With the way you run this crew anyone that would be a better Captain doesn't want the seat because it's nothing but a giant target!"

"Are ye saying ye would support a mutiny if the right person offered it?" Flint's expression was unreadable. Ace realized he had just stepped into dangerous territory. Even if the whole crew thought about mutiny from time to time, one stayed alive by not voicing those thoughts. Admitting to wanting to mutiny was enough to earn an execution. Just talking about it was enough, wasn't that why Ace and the other two were here now?

Ace let a crazed grin spread across his face, as reckless bravado consumed him. What exactly did he have to lose? "I will support anyone that can win against you in exchange for my freedom."

"Ye willnae lead the charge yerself? Ye said ye wanted to be the captain of yer own little vessel and crew in order to become Pirate King." Flint raised an eyebrow as he regarded the young man, his expression becoming thoughtful, the anger seeming to die.

"I want off this god-forsaken ship! I don't care who it is, they just need to be able to win!" shouted Ace. He then added in a lower voice, "Against you, though, that's a tall order."

Flint barked out a laugh and the crew all looked at each other in confusion and wonder. Had Ace just talked Flint out of killing someone? "Oh Ace, ye really do have a tender, naïve, heart. Yer mother's blood perchance?" he asked raising his eyebrow again. His eyes were as cold as ever.

Ace didn't believe he had talked Flint down and he didn't get a chance to find out, either. The man behind him cried out in surprise just as a pair of arms came around him, placing him in a choke hold that limited his breathing and his movements.

"Now that's a neat trick, Justin," said Flint in a casual tone as if he were conversing about the weather while Ace gasped for air. "Ye might have actually made it back onto the ship."

_Justin?!_ Ace shifted his feet to try to pull the older man off balance, but Justin was too experienced in hand-to-hand combat and Ace's arm's remained tied behind his back.

"What are you doing?" cried the bound man. "Ace almost had Flint talked down."

"You're a fool, Willis, if you think he was going to let us live just because of the puppy's words," said Justin. He turned his attention to Flint whose face had grown hard with returning anger. "I want a boat, Flint, so that I can leave this ship and your crew."

"What makes ye think I'm going to just grant yer request, Justin?" asked Flint, his voice still light even as his eyes burned with malice.

"You don't then I'll just throw myself overboard like you want and take the boy with me," replied Justin. He began inching toward the railing. The rest of the crew did and said nothing, eager to see it play out, and also aware that if they caused an undesired outcome Flint would kill them. They needed to wait for orders.

"What makes ye think I'll be persuaded by such a threat? Ye said that outcome was what I wanted."

Justin laughed and said, "Please, Flint, everyone knows you're soft on the boy. You had no intention of throwing him over, you were just scaring him. Give me a boat, Flint, and I'll give you back the boy."

"Ye have to know how this is going to end, Justin," said Flint.

"That's why I'll be leaving him at Askar Port in Inari. I'll tell the port authorities that he's a ship jumper and that you're his uncle. That you are willing to pay good coin if they return your naughty nephew back to you. You of course have to continue onto Dreadart in the opposite direction. You're on a timeline after all. Don't want the dukes to think you ran off with their goods and place a bounty on the good Captain Abrams's head, now do you?"

Dreadart wasn't quite in the opposite direction. Inari was a large archipelago made of several islands and inner waterways. Enough inner ocean existed for the country to need their own navy to enforce their laws instead of cavalry or soldiers and they even had mini pirate gangs that hassled small cargo ships that sailed within instead of bandits. Dreadart was a port on the northern most island that specialized in metal trades, due to its steep mountains and abundance of ore. Askar Port was where Flint needed to go to sell the furs and skins and buy the Sapphire Dragon Fruit the Dukes of Kels wanted, and that was near the southern end of the archipelago. While schedules included room for delays due to weather, Flint wouldn't be able to go to Dreadart until after he delivered the Sapphire Dragon Fruit to the Duchy of Kels. It would take a few weeks and Justin would be long gone by then.

This was well thought out. There were laws against ship jumping in Inari. Anyone caught was imprisoned. If the ship wanted them back, the captain had to pay a fee to the authorities since they took the time to hold the person. If the ship didn't, then the person was publicly flogged in the harbor as a warning to other sailors then sent to a work camp. Ace, at seventeen, was under-aged. There would be no public flogging if Flint refused to pay up, but he would be sent to a reform camp for intense training before being conscripted into the Inari Navy. Reform camps involved brainwashing techniques that would purge Ace of any thoughts of becoming a pirate captain. Flint had made sure Ace understood the consequences of trying to escape while in Inari since he didn't want to have to pay a fee to free Ace should he bolt again.

Flint said nothing. It seemed Justin had outmaneuvered him, a first as far as anyone knew.

"The boat, Captain," said Justin, he was standing by the railing now.

"No," replied Flint to everyone's surprise.

Justin froze, confused, then gasped. His grip lost all strength and his arms fell limp to his side. Ace staggered forward and fell onto the deck. He looked back to see what had just happened. Rasputan stood behind Justin, a dagger in each hand buried into the other man's shoulders. Justin's sudden loss of their use meant the Cossack had severed the nerves. Rasputan twisted the daggers and heaved the man over the railing. Justin didn't yell even after he hit the water and the sharks swarmed.

"Pity," said Flint as he gazed over the railing. "I actually admire smarts."

Rasputan stepped forward to stand over Ace as he began to clean his daggers. "Sorry, Captain, I just thought I should since I had the best shot… So to speak."

Flint shrugged, the only one not surprised by the turn of events. He must have seen Rasputan coming up behind Justin while everyone else had been focusing on the drama. Ace coughed and gasped as he sat up, a real trick with his hands bound but he managed.

"Let's finish this," said Flint.

Willis and Ace both looked up in surprise and cried simultaneously, "What?!"

"Captain, please!" begged Willis as the men grabbed him from where he had scooted out of Justin's way and dragged him toward the plank.

"Wait!" Ace got to his feet to charge the men like before but Rasputan grabbed his shoulder, with his wrists tied he couldn't remove the restraining hand and he couldn't pull out of it. He clenched and unclenched his hands, wriggling his wrists as he tried to find some way to escape the ropes. Justin had somehow done it. "Stop!"

Everyone ignored his shouts as Willis was forced onto the plank and driven to the end. Ace's wrist cracked painfully and then a hand slipped free of the ties. Rasputan was behind him but didn't seem to notice. His two cutlasses were strapped to his waist right where Ace's hands were.

His freed hand grabbed the hilt of a cutlass while the other knocked Rasputan away. Ace lunged forward before Rasputan could react just as Willis fell from the plank. Ace didn't hesitate to dive over the railing after the man even as the Cossack shouted his name.

"Ras!" Flint called as Ace entered the water.

Once underwater, Ace looked around for Willis. The man was only a few feet away and the sharks were circling. Sharks were cautious of fresh prey, in case it could still hurt them, but they would strike soon.

Ace swam toward the man and tugged on him. Willis looked at him in surprise as Ace reached for the ropes to cut him free. Willis made a sound and Ace turned his head in time to see one of the sharks shooting toward them. Ace turned and jabbed the shark. The shark turned away leaking blood that spread and obscured his vision. Another swam through the cloud and Ace jabbed again. The cuts weren't deep, the water was slowing his movements. The sharks were only getting scratched, but it was enough to force them back. The problem was the numbers and the blood from the previous kills and now wounded sharks were drawing more.

Ace drove off a third, then a fourth. There was no time to free Willis, and they were running out of air. He heard the muffled yell of the bound man and the water turned crimson. Ace turned.

Willis was sinking lower; a shark had taken a bite right out of his side. He looked at Ace with fading eyes and a sad smile before he mouthed a single word.

"_Thanks."_

Ace yelled his denial, bubbles flying passed his face as he expelled the last of his air. The sharks swam down after Willis to finish their work and others circled Ace. At that moment a pair of arms grabbed him from behind and he was suddenly flying back up. He exploded out of the water then fell hard onto the deck. Whoever grabbed him lost their grip as they rolled.

Ace coughed and spat sea water then looked up. Flint stood a few feet away looking down at him like he was a curiosity and not a person. His vision went crimson and his heart hammered in his chest as rage flooded him, setting his soul on fire with its dark flames. This was just too much. Oppressed and losing hope he had fallen into despair once, now hatred filled his heart. He never wanted to be part of this crew, yet here he was. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone, yet Flint made him. He couldn't stand to see women raped, yet the crew loved to when given a chance. Any kindness came at a price. Every mistake was matched with a blow. Flint didn't even stop his men from needlessly beating him. He couldn't make friends, any crew he actually started to like wound up dead for stupid reasons.

He hated this ship, hated this crew, and hated Flint. Whatever reservations he had for murder were lost in his wrath. All caution abandoned him, and he no longer cared about anything save killing Flint. Ace grabbed the cutlass from where it had fallen upon impact and charged.

"FLINT!" he screamed as he lunged forward.

Flint's expression turned to shock, and he grabbed for his own sword as he stepped back. He needed to leap back to put more space between him and the charging youth if only to be granted more time to defend but with his bad leg that wasn't possible. The rest of the crew was even slower to react to Ace's unexpected action.

The sword was only halfway out of the scabbard and Ace was nearly on top of the captain, his arm drawn back as he prepared to thrust the blade home when he was tackled from behind. Ace jabbed the sword at his attacker, an awkward backhanded blow aimed behind his head. It struck a skull and bounced off without doing much damage. He threw the arm down with a strength that only madness could bring. The man went off balance, causing them both to stagger, but he didn't let go.

"Get the pig sticker out of his hand!" barked Flint. He had retreated two more steps and his sword remained out and on guard. "Ras! Plant yer feet already!"

"I'm trying to do that, but his madness is making it nearly impossible," hissed Rasputan. Ace yelled nonsense and howled like a possessed beast. He bent in half then shoved back, twisted then rammed Rasputan into the mast. The tall, lanky man wasn't used to be thrown around like this, but he focused his entire being into holding Ace

"Just hang on to him, then. If ye lose him now, I'll have to shoot! Quarken!" yelled the captain, he was beginning to sound alarmed, frightened even.

"I can't approach when he's like this, Flint!" said Quarken.

"Just be ready," snapped Flint. "Get that sword out of his hand!" he bellowed to his other men.

Jaeger and Austin were already trying to get in to grab his arm, but Ace's wild attacks and unpredictable body throws were making it impossible for the two men to get close. Jaeger's arm already hung limp at his side from being stabbed in the shoulder and Austin's nose was broken from a kick. Ace had leaned back on Rasputan to drive a heel into Austin's face when the master gunner had come at Ace's unarmed side. Rasputan's head had several cuts from Ace's attempts to stab him over his shoulder.

Ace heaved again and Rasputan rose off the deck. The Cossack wrapped his long legs around the mast to prevent Ace from throwing him. Ace reversed direction and shoved back again. The motion brought the hands that were locked around Ace's chest up and Ace bit down on the thumbs that were now within reach of his mouth. Rasputan yelled and uttered oaths in a language no one had ever heard before but did not let go. Ace moved to swing again, this time he was lined up for a shot at Rasputan's eyes.

Jason appeared and tangled his two broadswords with the cutlass, arresting the swing. Austin dodged in and grabbed Ace's forearm. He locked his arm around it and pulled back, his thumbs jabbing the pressure point on the wrist. Bones crackled and shifted ominously.

"Bloody hell! His wrist is already broken!" cried Austin in shock.

"It's how he escaped his loops!" gasped Rasputan.

Ace flexed his arm muscles as he bit down harder on Rasputan's hand. Austin grunted as he struggled to retain his hold of the arm. Ace's free hand reached up seeking soft areas to gouge like eyes and noses. Rasputan kept his head turned away so the searching fingers found only hair to pull but that meant his face was vulnerable to Ace's sword. If Austin lost his grip, the blade would strike a more critical target.

Jason slammed his shoulder into Ace's and kept his blades ready. "Austin!" he cried.

"Damn it! He just isn't feeling it," hissed the master gunner. He pulled a spiral shell from his belt pouch. A red spiral shell. "Quarken, you're going to need that burn ointment in a moment."

"Eh?" Quarken started.

"Knock him out first, then treat him!" ordered Flint.

Austin pushed the top of the dial and fire spewed forth, engulfing Ace's hand. Ace screamed, releasing Rasputan's hand but not the cutlass. Damn his mad rage!

"Drop it!" shouted Austin as he kept the fire going. Ace continued screaming. "Drop it! Drop it! Damn you, Ace! DROP! IT!" The cutlass dropped to the deck and Jaeger snatched it and stepped away.

"Now, Quarken!" cried Jaeger as Jason spun and trapped Ace's other arm so he couldn't punch or grab anyone. Both Austin and Jason used their own legs to tie up Ace's, to stop his kicking and tossing of Rasputan.

Quarken rushed forward and placed a chloroform-soaked cloth over Ace's nose and mouth. "Sleep, lad." Ace shook his head and tried to pull back from the cloth while snarling and cursing. It did little good. Ace struggled for half a minute more before going limp.

"Is he out?" asked Austin. No one dared to move. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility for Ace to fake unconsciousness in order to escape.

Quarken checked the young man's pulse without removing the cloth then opened an eye to check for a response. "He's out," he declared stepping back as he pulled the cloth away. He then glanced at Ace's right hand and made a face. "Did ye have to burn him that badly? Even with my abilities and ointments there is going to be some permanent nerve damage." Ace's hand was black and red with bits of knucklebone showing through the damaged flesh.

"Get him treated then put him down in the brig," said Flint as he slid his sword back into his sheath. "Tie him to the wall. He'll stay there until he cools his head."

"Why didnae ye just shoot him?" demanded Quillan.

"If he was expendable, I widnae bother with him in the first place," said Flint.

"Why are ye bothering with him at all? What is this lad to ye?" Quillan pressed. He was still furious about Flint letting Ace return to the crew after he should have been dead. Rasputan was more sure than ever that he was the source of the death curse.

"The closest thing to a son I'll ever have," replied Flint after a moment. The crew was silent as they absorbed that startling revelation.

"Are ye daft? This is Roger's child, Flint," growled Quillan.

"The connection is from another lifetime, but it is there, nonetheless. I dinnae expect ye to understand," said Flint. "And that is all I'm going to say on the subject." Quillan shut his mouth. There was a warning gleam in the captain's eyes. The Vice-Captain was on thin ice himself after provoking Flint's temper like he did. His value as a business partner was dwindling in the face of the mistake he had made last month. Fortunately, for the man, Flint wasn't ready to get rid of him.

Rasputan leaned back against the mast and said, "Captain. If he truly means that much to you, shouldn't you be, I don't know, just a bit more understanding of his feelings?" Flint turned to glare at him but Rasputan didn't back down.

"As you know, I happen to have my own interest in him. I don't want to have to question you so openly so often, but if you continue this carelessness. I will have no choice but to take more extreme actions. I don't want to. Aside from this ship being his antithesis, I believe you are a good mentor for him. However, you do need to pay attention to his needs, not just yours.

"Today was the first time in many years that I have felt fear. Not for myself but for someone else. And I don't think I was the only one," Rasputan added while giving a hard look at Flint whose expression became unreadable. He was listening even if he didn't like what he was hearing. Rasputan didn't care. He understood Flint was working out some complicated emotions that hadn't been experienced since before he became Flint. He knew this, because he was feeling them as well. Ace just had that kind of pull on people.

"You nearly lost him once to the depression Syren caused with her manipulations. Will you lose him again for once again failing to take his feelings into account? Whether it is rage or despair both are being derived from his own hopelessness at his situation. You need to not do unnecessary things, no matter who dares you."

Flint stared hard at Rasputan for a moment more then, for the first time ever, looked down as if ashamed. It was only for a brief moment and most of the crew missed it before his eyes lit on Ace. The young man lay unconscious on the deck with Quarken removing ruined flesh from his burnt hand and washing the rest in preparation for the special burn agar that would allow Ace's hand to recover as if it had never been hurt. It would take time and a lot of work on Ace's part, but he would be able to keep and use his hand. Though, Quarken's earlier comment about nerve damage worried him.

"Get him to the brig once Quarken's done with him," said Flint in a low voice before he vanished into his cabin.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I had to rework Rasputan's speech for this chapter. The original writing was with Rasputan being a member of the crew and being concerned about overstepping when his captain was angry. The final Rasputan wouldn't have been worried about that.

I also had to make references to Flint's still cool attitude toward Ace after the Syren debacle. This incident forces him to realize his own feelings for Ace and that he needs to accept them. Flint hasn't cared about anyone like this for decades as we find out in the next chapter.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	31. Samuel Abrams

Chapter 31: Samuel Abrams

First thing Ace became aware of as he regained consciousness was the throbbing in his right hand. The next thing was that he was upright but couldn't move. Coarse ropes were wrapped around his elbows pinning him into a sitting position against the wall. He looked to his right and saw his wrist was in a splint and his hand was bandaged with every finger individually wrapped. He tried to bend them, but the wrappings were stiff, and pain shot up his arm from the attempt. He let out a small whimper at the bolt of white-hot agony that slipped into a hiss as it returned to throbbing.

"Awake at last, I see."

Ace jerked his head up then turned to his left. Flint sat on the cell's cot, his hands folded on top of his cane, his back straight. His expression had an unusual softness to it that disturbed Ace.

"Do know where ye are, lad?" asked Flint.

"The brig," replied Ace without hesitation. He had spent enough time here contemplating his sins in the past few months to recognize his cell at a glance.

"Do ye know why ye're here and, particularly, why ye are tied to the wall?"

At this Ace paused. His memories were hazy. There had been an attempt on Flint's life and Ace and a couple others had been found guilty by association. As he recalled the events, he remembered Justin's failed escape attempt… and Willis.

Ace threw himself against his bindings but couldn't rise even an inch from the floor, his rage returning with the image of Willis's sad expression and final word. He satisfied himself with reaching Flint with his spit. Flint didn't even indulge the small triumph, choosing to ignore the glob that had reached his blue coat. It infuriated Ace even more.

"As soon as ye remember ye go right back to yer mad rage," said Flint with sigh. "Ye're not leaving here until ye've calmed down, Ace."

"Why the fuck would I care about calming down?" snapped Ace. He jostled his ropes again then flinched when his injured hand hit the wall, another whimper escaping his lips. Why was he so badly hurt? That he couldn't remember. He knew he had lost his temper once he was back on deck but everything after that was a blur.

"Ace, stop struggling!" hissed Flint. "Yer hand is hurt badly. If ye injury it more, ye'll lose it."

That revelation was a bucket of ice water to Ace. He immediately stopped pulling on the ropes. No matter how angry he was he couldn't stand the thought of being crippled. Especially since it concerned his hand. He might be able to get by with a lost leg, Flint certainly did well for himself, he couldn't see how losing his good hand would be anything less than a devastating setback to his sailing career.

"Here," said Flint holding up a small bowl of a steaming liquid before Ace's face. Ace looked at it then at his captain. "It's broth with medicinal herbs to aid in the healing process."

Ace glared for a moment more then turned his head away. Why did it have to be Flint in his cell? If it had been Rasputan here to chide him and play nursemaid again, Ace would have gone alone with it. Flint… Why was he even playing nursemaid? Ace didn't care, he wanted him gone.

"Gol D. stubbornness at its finest," growled Flint as he set the bowl down next to him. Ace snarled at Flint's statement. "Dinnae like that ye are more yer father's son than ye care to be? Good! Roger never thought through his actions and survived because of Rayleigh pulling his ass out of the fire more times than any could count. Dinnae be that type of liability to yer crew."

"What do you care? What do you even know about being a liability?" hissed Ace despite himself.

Flint didn't answer right away instead he filled a cup with a dark liquid from a flask. Wine, Ace could smell the alcohol, which surprised him. Flint never indulged in spirits, too much risk in dulling his wits.

The captain took a sip and whispered, "I had feeling I was going to have this conversation with ye at some point just didnae know when." He took another sip. He looked at Ace who had turned back to look at Flint.

Ace was startled by the appearance of a stranger in those green eyes. Someone older than his years… broken beyond repair.

"Once upon time I knew yer father. He wanted me to be his navigator, but I wanted nothing to do with pirates. I just wanted to sail where the wind would take me and explore every island I came upon. Make a map of the whole world and write books on the people and places I encountered. I fancied myself an explorer. Like Noland, I guess. A pity I never heard of the man until after, his story would've served as an excellent warning for me."

Flint took another drink while Ace wondered who Noland was then focused his attention on another part of Flint's story. "You turned him down because you didn't want anything to do with pirates?" Ace rolled his eyes. "Really?"

"Dinnae be so surprised, though I guess I can't blame ye. Not everyone starts on this path, sometimes they're tossed on it kicking screaming and with much bloodshed." Flint took another sip. It was strange for Ace to see his captain drinking. The man was usually so careful to keep his head clear. A necessary thing when the crew would stab him in the back at first opportunity.

"Once upon a time I was a man that sailors followed because they believed in me and my dream. A man that trusted and loved his comrades as he would his own family. That all came to an end one day. The World Government had approached me three times trying to recruit me to the Marines as well due to my skills in navigation, but I didnae want to be chained down by obligations. I never once did anything in those days to violate the law. My ship, the Intrepid, was just an exploring craft. Oh, she had a means to defend herself but was more speed than fight. She could outrun and/or outmaneuver most pirates' ships of that day, though."

Flint laughed and continued, "Ye father was persistent. He really wanted me as his navigator. He liked my dream and thought we could both benefit from it. He harried me all over East Blue. I took the nose of his ship, the Ornery Lass, at one point. He was rather upset about this, so I reminded him that I had turned him down and that any damage to his ship he incurred from me was his fault for not honoring my refusal."

Ace couldn't help the snort that escaped him. It was a funny image even if Ace was still furious with Flint.

Flint acted like he hadn't noticed and continued with his tale. "I finally convinced him to have a duel with me. If he won the duel, I would be his navigator. If not… He had to leave me alone and not chase me anymore. Needless to say, I won."

"I thought you didn't show mercy to your enemies," muttered Ace.

"It was another lifetime ago and he wasn't my enemy just an unwanted suitor," explained Flint with a chuckle. He eyes grew sad as he stared into his cup. "I think it would have better for everyone if I had lost. Not long after I was sailing in the Grandline when a Marine ship appeared. They said they wanted to do inspections. It happened so many times that I didnae think anything of waving them alongside to board. Instead they opened fired and kept firing until the Intrepid was so much flotsam on the ocean's surface and my men were crimson smears on the floating bits of wood."

Ace felt his heart skip a beat. He stared at Flint in shock. To lose his entire crew all at once… He had said he loved them as family and they had been murdered in cold blood, Flint helpless to do anything. Ace's thoughts went to Sabo and the impending threat to Luffy. They sent a shiver down Ace's spine even as he tried to understand why Flint had become someone who treated his crew as expendable. Had the loss hurt that much that he sealed away his heart rather than be hurt again?

"My vice-captain and I were blown off during the first volley. It's how I ended up with my leg like this," he said tapping his bum left leg. "A longboat was upside down but remained intact despite the barrage. Once the Marines were gone, Collin turned it over and got me into it. We managed to find a few intact supplies, but it wasn't much. Then I realized how serious Collin's wounds were. His gut had been punctured. We waited in the longboat for anyone else to come along and find us. I grew weak with fever as my leg deteriorated without medical aid. Collin slowly bled out and died before my eyes. Days later, when I thought I was lost, the Moby Dick, Whitebeard's own ship appeared and gifted me with aid.

"I had always believed that pirates were in general bad people and Marines were good. That Marines always upheld the law and sought to protect those who could not protect themselves. That was my rock, my certainty in a world full of uncertainty. My naivety. I had my entire world turned upside down. It shattered me. To have yer bedrock destroyed like that. What comes back never resembles what it was before the breaking. I'm afraid Flint is just what rose from that deathbed, though, it wasn't an overnight transformation. I doubt Whitebeard would ever believe that Flint of the Headhunter Pirates was the same man he saved back then. It took time for me to become this monster that I am. It took time to seal the fissures into this thing that now sits before ye."

Ace was silent for a moment then said, "You never broke any laws. Always followed the rules and did what was right. You just didn't want the World Government to tell you where to go and for that they murdered you and your crew."

"That's right," said Flint, his expression growing cold. "They killed the man I was because he wanted to sail free not because he broke any laws. The World Government only honors their agreements when it suits them. While I believe Desiree would keep her word because she is a pillar of Marine virtue, most willnae. Never forget that."

"Why do you run a crew like this when you know how it much it hurts to lose comrades?" asked Ace, his anger rising once more but, instead of calling on rash violence, it pressed against the back of his eyes and leaked down his cheeks. Sorrow? Pity? Why? Flint murdered his own crew on a routine basis, slaughtered pirates when he had been rescued by some and got chummy with the Marines that murdered his original crew in cold blood. Why?

"Dinnae bother trying to understand me, Ace," replied Flint. "I thought I had lost the ability to care. That Samuel Abrams had died with this crew leaving this vengeful specter to haunt them even as he thumbed his nose at them by walking underneath theirs. Most of the pirates that are worthwhile aren't wasting their time terrorizing the Blues and rarely raid trade vessels. I make a point of ignoring New World, so I dinnae hurt Whitebeard accidentally. That was all the compassion for anyone that I had left."

"Samuel Abrams…" Ace stared hard at Flint. The man was legend in East Blue. A peerless Navigator and Explorer that taunted pirates and went on grand adventures. A child's story of non-pirating fun that he had read with Luffy after Sabo's death. It had been fascinating to read about a freedom seeker who wasn't a pirate. A nobleman who defied conventions to be the captain of his own ship with ties to no one. It had reminded them of Sabo's dream, and he had imagined Abrams as the grown Sabo. The tears continued, though he wanted them to stop. He had cried every time he read the books on Samuel Abrams too because they reminded him of his dead brother. He couldn't believe he was staring at the real live Samuel Abrams. Seeing the truth of what had become of that fearless Explorer was like the World Government killing Sabo all over again.

Flint reached out and placed a hand on Ace's head. "Then I met ye in the Dancing Bear and realized there was still some of old Abrams left." He smiled and it was warmer than Ace had ever seen on the man and thought he caught a glimpse of the old explorer from the depths of his haunted eyes.

"And yesterday, I thought I was about to experience that long-ago pain all over again," he finished. He pulled his hand away. Ace wished he could wipe away the embarrassing tears that continued to flow down his face, but he was bound. Flint at least did him the favor of ignoring them.

"I dinnae want ye to become a captain like me, Ace. I just dinnae want ye dying young either. Yer father took time to get his feet wet before he headed into the Grandline. Yer rash speed is going to do nothing but send ye to an early grave. Ye're in such a hurry to be great yer trying to skip all the steps ye need in between. As terrible as this ship is for ye, I still think ye can learn something from it that will allow ye to surpass yer father if ye would just pay attention."

Ace shook his head and whispered, "Willis was completely unnecessary. You didn't need to indulge that fool's accusations if you already knew they were trash."

"Back to that are we," said Flint as he set his now empty cup down. Gone was the gentleness of Samuel Abrams that he had exposed a moment before. Flint's cold nonchalance had returned. "Ye dinnae like how I run my ship. I dinnae expect ye to. I dinnae expect ye try to understand it. Ye have to be running this type of ship for years to understand it."

"I'm never going to understand it," hissed Ace.

"I rather hope ye dinnae," responded Flint as he reached to his side where he had placed the bowl with the broth. "Now drink while it's still warm."

Ace turned his head away again. It felt too much like forgiving Flint which he was never going to do.

Flint seemed to wrestle with keeping his temper under control before he spoke in a terse voice, "This is not going to bring Willis back. I honestly didn't know ye two were friends. I've never seen ye two interact before."

"We weren't, but I can't make myself not care," replied Ace, turning to face Flint again. "I feel like if I do stop caring about what happens to everyone on this ship, then I'll lose something I don't want to lose. I feel like I really will become you."

Flint raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Ace turned away again. "So just go away."

Flint sighed then rose, setting the bowl down on the cot again. He picked up his cane and flask then reached over Ace's head and pulled on something. The binding came loose. Ace stared at his partial freedom in surprise, he was still inside the cell after all.

"I only had ye bound because ye were hurting yerself in yer rage. Ye're still upset with me, but ye're rational again." Flint turned and headed to the door. "When ye're ready to rejoin the rest of the crew, let Ras know. He'll let ye out. Oh, by the way, I left ye some reading assignments. Moping down here int going to do ye any good and besides we'll be focusing on yer lessons again since ye've gone and injured yerself. Once yer hand has recovered, I'll put ye back on yer routine chores."

Flint exited the cell and the door clanged loudly as the lock was turned and the bolt entered the metal frame. Ace stared at the cot and spied the books Flint's body had been hiding. He looked down at his bandaged and splinted hand and sighed. With his left hand he reached for the bowl and slowly began sipping the warm broth. It had been sitting on a warming bowl, the candle within was flickering as it ran out of wax. Flint must have been waiting for a while.

Willis's last moments appeared before Ace's eyes again and he felt the tears start to flow again. He hated Flint for everything he was and for everything he had been.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Here we get a little bit of Flint's tragic past.

He is the heartless man who became that way because he once cared too much and it nearly killed him.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	32. Rupert of Inari

Chapter 32: Rupert of Inari

Captain Larry was truly at a loss for words. What had appeared to be a fat duck of a trade ship, sitting low and sailing slow from the weight of her cargo, had turned out to be the pirate ship of the one pirate no pirate ever wanted to meet. And his crew was losing to the bloodthirsty lot. They needed to return to their ship, they needed to flee, but that was impossible. Once they had boarded the cannoneers below had fired harpoons to lock the ship in place. The only way to free the ship was to hack away the wood that surrounded the barbed ends. And there was no time to do that.

Captain Larry stared at Flint who stood back watching the slaughter from the door to his cabin. That cane didn't look like it was for show, perhaps there was a chance for his crew. _If I take him out__,__ the crew will be without its leader__. Maybe__ we can escape while they sort out the loss_, he thought.

He charged the captain of the Headhunter Pirates, determined that, even if it took his final breath, he would strike down the foul Captain and save his crew. With that action he earned Flint's respect and mercy for his crew.

They all died quickly.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Put the corpses back on their ship, clear the hull of any goods, then light her up," ordered Flint. "We can't leave evidence of our passing right now."

"Should we let Ace out to help?" asked a crewman. Ace, still recovering from having his hand burned, had been shoved into Flint's cabin for protection. With the fighting over, one good arm could still share the load.

"Aye, that would be wise," said Flint as he turned toward his door, still struggling to control his breath after crossing swords with Captain Larry. _I must be getting old_, he thought. _I dinnae remember it taking this long before to get my wind back_.

"Captain, the door!" cried Jason as he pointed.

Everyone paused. The door hung open, a sword gash across where the handle had been. The good Captain had struck the door in a backswing. It had thrown off his balance allowing Flint to strike a fatal blow. It had also allowed Ace to leave the room prematurely. Why the lad had, Flint didn't know, and it didn't matter.

"Someone find where Ace ran off to," said Flint in disgust.

"Captain!" A shout directed him toward the enemy ship. Ace emerged from the interior cabin with a child in toe. Ace's cloth sling was now tied around the child's head, block their vision. The child was dressed richly in velvet purple pants, pale green shirt and dark green vest, suggesting the child, despite the long ginger hair that fell below the shoulders, was a boy. Aristocrats always dressed their girls in skirts and dresses. Only fieldworkers and lowborn women of unscrupulous nature wore pants, or so they claimed.

"What are ye doing?" asked Flint while holding up a finger to forestall any other comments. Ace had gone to the trouble to blindfold the child, there had to be a reason for it.

"I heard him crying for help during the raid, Captain," replied Ace, careful not to say Flint's name, true or alias.

"That's not what I'm…"

"You can't ask me to stand by and do nothing when it concerns a kid," snapped Ace. Flint looked at him; a wildness was in the young man's eyes that was dangerously similar to when he tried to save Willis. Then the light flicked out as Ace lowered his head. His arm went around the child. The boy trembled and wrapped his small hands around Ace's forearm.

"He doesn't know anything," hissed Ace. "I checked!"

"Please, good sir," said the boy in the perfect speech of the Inari aristocracy. "I don't know who you are, but I'd wager my grandfather would pay handsomely for my safe return. Money is not an obstacle for my family."

"So, the Larry Pirates captured ye for ransom?" asked Flint.

"Yes, sir."

"I dinnae take hostages."

"I did not mean to imply that, good, sir!" said the boy in haste. "I meant he would reward you for rescuing me. I called in hopes that someone onboard your ship would hear me when I realized Captain Larry was engaging in a high seas pillage. I was hoping someone would come during the fighting and take me aboard before he realized what happened."

Flint narrowed his eyes. The boy had heard the pirates talking about raiding a trade ship. The silence told him the trade ship had just won an overwhelming victory. Trade ships were not known for that kind of victory over pirates. All the best fighters wound up in the military, after all. If the name Flint crossed his ears, then he would know too much.

"I dinnae take passengers, either," said Flint. The boy's lower lip trembled. He understood they were talking about killing him. This further emphasized the danger in having him onboard. He was smart, he would figure it out if the men weren't careful and Flint couldn't ask them to be careful for however long it took to reach their destination.

"Make an exception," pleased Ace. "Put him in the brig. I know from experience that you can't hear much from there."

"And when we reach port?"

"Put him in a barrel and leave him on the dock when we leave. Give him a potion to make him sleep for an hour so we're long gone by the time he wakes up and alerts the authorities." Ace was starting to look desperate, but that was a good plan. Provided there were no slip-ups in between.

Flint looked at the boy. How worth it to him was this one? "Just who is yer grandfather, lad?"

The boy stiffened then said, "King Richard of Inari."

Flint fell silent. The crown prince himself. Damn. He looked at Ace, whose hold hadn't slackened at the revelation. Ace really was too good for this ship.

"Well Prince Rupert, if ye can keep that blindfold on and dinnae ask questions, we can get ye to an Inari port within the week. Is that acceptable?"

Rupert nodded vigorously. "Yes, good sir. I accept all of it."

"Ye understand the plan then?"

"Yes, good sir."

"Good." Flint looked at Ace. "Ye'll be responsible for him. Ye will guard, feed and water him. And know this, if I find he has learned anything crucial, ye will be the one to end him. Crown Prince Rupert of Inari will disappear just like the Larry Pirates are about to. Am I understood?"

Ace flinched and lowered his gaze. "Yes, sir."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I know this is pretty meager pickings for a prince," said Ace as he set a tray with a cup of water, loaf of bread, bacon, mashed potatoes and green beans and an apple before Rupert. The vegetables and meat had been saved from his own meal. Silver hadn't been eager to waste good food on an unwanted guest and had spared only the minimum.

"However, you'll be home soon, and you'll be able to eat all the good food you want."

Rupert was sitting on the cot cross-legged. He carefully felt the tray for the items and Ace flinched.

"Ah… I guess I should have chosen to bring something other than mashed potatoes and green beans," said Ace in apology.

Rupert paused and located his fork then tapped the plate until he found the said items. Licking the potatoes from his finger, he then carefully used the fork to scrap the white mush from the plate and bring it to his mouth.

"No, this is all right," said the boy between bites. "Was this from your meal?"

He was dangerously perceptive. "No questions, remember," said Ace, embarrassed to admit the truth.

Rupert took a bite of green beans he had speared with his fork. "You have my profound gratitude, Ace-dono."

Ace coughed. _Dono?_ "No names either!" he hissed.

Rupert chewed his bacon. He took a sip of water then said, "I needed to know your name. You were most gracious to come to my aid, then to stand up for me and offering a workable solution that your Captain felt was acceptable. Even if I cannot repay you your generosity and kindness today, I most know who you are so I can repay you in the future."

Ace chuckled and said, "You may change your mind in the future."

Rupert bit the apple, seeming to savor it. Had Captain Larry not fed the boy while he was aboard their ship?

"You have saved me, protected me, and are bringing me home safe. You are even feeding me from your own rations. I have incurred quite a debt and we of Inari always repay our debts. I daresay that one who can show this much kindness and generosity to a stranger when it benefits them not at all will never become something that I would feel the need to forfeit on."

Something scuttled in the dark. Ace glared as the prince raised his head as he finished the last bite of bread.

"What was that?"

"Probably just that damn spider. There's a large spider that likes to run around and pop out at people at random times. Try not to get too spooked by it."

"I have been hearing that noise for a while now. Is it really a large spider? I thought I heard squeaks a little while ago."

Ace looked at Rupert. The wolf spider that inhabited the ship, and acted as their unofficial mascot, didn't squeak. Ace reached up for the lantern then brought it down close to the floor.

Rat droppings. Ace didn't remember there being rats down here before. He sighed. He turned toward Rupert again as he replaced the lantern.

"I'm going to take your tray back up now and then bring back a few things I'll need. I just realized I forgot to sweep the floor in here so stay on your cot for now. I'm usually the one getting thrown in here, so it ended becoming like a second room for me. The only one I didn't have to ever share."

Rupert laughed and Ace carried the tray out, closing the cell door and locking it. He tucked the key into his pocket, better to prevent unwanted visitors from entering when he wasn't looking. He didn't want his attempts to protect Rupert ruined by irate crew members.

Ace returned several minutes later, with a hammock, a broom and dust bin and a bag holding his books. They thumped loudly when he dropped them on the bottom step. It was going to be a pain to sweep with only one hand, but it was better than letting the mess stay as it was. Rat droppings could be dangerous to one's health.

"What was that?" asked Rupert sitting up.

"Sorry, about that. Since I'm going to have to guard you, I've been relieved of my usual chores." There was no need to mention he was already temporarily relieved of them because of his injured hand. That was information that could later be used to identify him and the ship by extension later.

"However, the captain assigns me book stuff on top of my chores. So, he said that since I'll have nothing to do, I could study extra," said Ace as he began setting up his hammock. Setting up the hammock was also a pain. He used his right elbow to hold the end in place as his left looped the end rope through the iron hoops that were hammered into the crossbars all over the ship. Whether it was to hang spare lanterns or other items he didn't know, but it made hanging a hammock much easier.

"I'll also be sleeping down here, so I'll apologize for the snoring in advance."

"Your Captain assigns you book stuff? As in book work like a schoolmaster?"

"He did say that to me the first day…" Ace turned as he fell silent.

Rupert giggled. He couldn't see Ace, but he understood the silence. "Sorry, no questions."

Ace opened the door and announced, "I'm going to sweep out the room now, so you might want to hold your breath."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They arrived in port without further incident.

Flint was satisfied Rupert was properly ignorant of the ship's identity. So, after the cargo was offloaded and sold with fresh cargo purchased and loaded, Rupert was placed in a barrel and left on the dock. Ace didn't drug him. By that point, he was certain Rupert would keep quiet for the required time. This way, if some clumsy dockworker knocked the barrel into the water, Rupert could react rather than drown.

Rupert squeezed Ace's hand as he was lowered into the barrel and smiled. Ace smiled back, even though Rupert couldn't see the smile, and patted his hand. He then closed the barrel and carried it to a pylon away from the ship.

Ace didn't relax until the pier was out of sight; afraid Flint would turn around or blast the barrel from the dock. Stupid fears, but he felt them. He sighed in relief when water was all that he saw.

"Feel better?" asked Flint, appearing next to Ace in that unnerving way.

"Yes," Ace squeaked in reply.

"How's yer hand?"

Ace paused to comprehend the subject change or if there was a subject chance and not a subject misinterpretation. Then he raised his right hand and began to unwrap it. Pale, unmarked flesh appeared from the folds of the bandage. Ace flexed his fingers, curling them into a fist before stretching them wide. No tingle of pain emerged from his hand and he had the full range of motion. Quarken had been pessimistic about his recovery. Certain something was not going to work correctly later but it seemed everything was in good order.

"Good!" said Flint, clapping Ace on the shoulder. "Ye can return to yer full routine tomorrow.

Ace sighed again for entirely different reason, then said, "Well at least I'm out of the brig."

"I was starting to think ye liked the solitude and the quiet," said Flint was smirk. "Ye create enough excuses to be sent down there."

Ace blushed then yawned. "True, but the last couple nights I didn't get any sleep. The rats were getting aggressive. If I didn't stand guard, they would have attacked Rupert in his sleep."

"Rats?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Does anyone remember that kid show from the 90's featuring the Rupert? That is how this Rupert talks.

Well Rupert is safe but now there are rats on the ship. Oh boy!

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	33. Rats in the Hold

Chapter 33: Rats in the Hold

"There is no point in asking how this happened," said Flint as he paced in front of the line his crew made on the deck of the Maiden's Sorrow. His officers stood on the other side of his pacing self, free and clear of their captain's wrath. The grunts and apprentices on the other hand stood at attention as if they were well trained Marines, fervently hoping Flint was not in a killing mood. Flint was radiating rage like a bonfire radiated heat and Ace swore he was going to blister under the intensity of it.

Only two other times, since Ace joined, had he seen the crew so subdued. The first time had been the very day he arrived on the ship. Ace looking up and seeing the pirate flag had revealed the crew's rather serious blunder. No one died that day but the second time there was a massive mistake, a new recruit hadn't taken the captain's mood seriously and gotten his head removed when he hadn't stood at attention like everyone else for Flint's dressing down.

"It is very obvious how this happened," continued Flint. "The only thing that can't be determined is when it happened and who was directly responsible. So, I am holding all of ye responsible for this fiasco! Every crewman when he boards this ship is instructed on the matters of attending to the Maiden, nothing is ever assumed about yer knowledge beforehand. So, I know ye all knew this was an important matter and yet someone did not take their task seriously. There is only one response for this dereliction of duty."

At that moment the source of Flint's ire scuttled out of the kitchen with an apple in its mouth. It stopped when it saw the crew who stared back. It was a large black rat, one of several that had stowed away on their ship at some unknown previous port. They had proliferated and were eating their way through the ship's stores and some of their cargo as well.

Flint glared at the beast and Ace hoped his captain wouldn't draw his gun and shoot someone while trying to hit the rat. The rat, recognizing the murderous aura being directed at it, squeaked and ran down a hole in the deck that had not been their originally. Oh yeah, they were putting holes in the ship as they constructed their personal highways to better access the crew's food supplies.

Everyone remained frozen in place, not a peep being made. Flint looked like he might burst a blood vessel at any moment. The rat's appearance had only worsened his mood.

He growled then turned and bellowed, "WHY COULDN'T YE HAVE BEEN A BIRD-EATING SPIDER?!"

"OOGIE!" cried the ship's resident wolf spider from where it sat on the railing watching the proceedings. It raised its two front legs it what seemed to be a defensive/placating gesture. Flint turned his attention back to the crew who were still standing at attention, not making a sound. That scene should have invoked a laugh, but Ace was now convinced someone was going to die. And there was nothing funny about that. The rest of the crew must have felt the same.

"PENCE! ETHAN! RIVEN!" bellowed Flint. "OVER HERE, NOW!" He slammed his cane onto the deck next to him. The three men blanched. They were Flint's newest recruits, having joined just three weeks prior. Ace almost spoke up as the three complied but bit his tongue. Flint had an odd homicidal reaction to people speaking up on behalf of others. It could go badly for the men if Ace tried to intervene. It hadn't gone well for Willis weeks earlier when Ace had tried to save him from an execution, though that might have been Justin's fault.

Once the men were standing at attention next to their captain, Flint returned his focus to the rest of the crew. "The rest of ye… STRIP AND DOWN!" The three men he had called out glanced at each other in confusion but didn't move. They understood enough to realize they were not part of that order even if they didn't understand what he was ordering.

Ace did and he fought to keep his face neutral as he, and the rest of the crew, did as instructed. This also extended to keeping his thoughts blank. If he started mentally cursing Flint, Flint might just read it on his face and that would invite a more direct response rather than this broadside he was implementing. Ace pulled his shirt off then laid down on his stomach, folding his arms in front of him and resting his head on his forearms.

"Five, Bosun," said Flint. He began pacing in front of the crewmen again as Jaeger drew his bullwhip and got to work with delivering five lashes to the prostrate men's exposed backs. "Rats are the bane of every sailing ship in existence. They're gluttons and unsanitary. One plague carrying rat can damn a whole ship. That's why we place rat shields on our mooring lines when we're at port." Flint pounded his cane on the deck, during a pause in his pacing.

Everyone remained quiet, letting Flint lecture and taking their lashes with suppressed grunts. The bosun had a harder time drawing screams from prone targets, but screams would cover up Flint's lecture and that would enrage the captain more. So, Jaeger wasn't striking with his usual severity. A small mercy to the crew. He slowly worked his way down the line.

This was Marine level of discipline. A pirate crew shouldn't have been so compliant to taking a beating in mass, and this crew in particular should have been more prone to mutiny over this than others. It was one thing for a single man to get flogged. He was dragged over to the main mast and cuffed to it, forced to stand there as he was whipped before the entire crew. Their lack of camaraderie meant no one would stand up for a single individual receiving a beating for some offense he had committed. An unrestrained group like this that outnumbered the officers should have been able to rush Flint and take the ship. The problem, though, was that same lack camaraderie. The first person to charge would be the first to die. No one wanted to be the sacrifice, so no one was going to charge. They all just laid there and took it. Five lashes were nothing compared to losing their heads. The real problem was the idiot who forgot to put the rat shield on the mooring lines.

"Now we're going to have fumigate the whole ship and that is a two-day operation at least. We are going to be exposed for the entire duration of this procedure, so we'll be doing this on a deserted shoreline. If anyone comes across us while we are gassing the ship we will be outed immediately. We will not be able to prevent it. Once we get started, we will be vulnerable. If one Marine vessel finds us, we are done. This is not just a minor inconvenience; this is the potential sabotage of our entire operation here and everywhere else. That's why we aren't supposed to be getting rats on our ship!

"Now, for those unfamiliar with our procedures, which is supposed to be a large number of ye since this is not supposed to happen with any frequency to become routine, I'll enlighten ye. So, ye better pay attention! If I catch ye fouling up, should ye survive, ye will be getting ten times this amount. Am I clear?"

Ace, Jason and a few others cried out, "Yes, sir!" Ace flinched as the whip struck his back, Jaeger had finally reached him. It sucked being the cabin boy. He and Jason were at the end of the line. Ace would rather have been the first in the line. Jaeger could pace himself for the long beating, but he did take time to warm up. The first blows were always lighter than the last.

The last of the five strikes landed and silence reigned. No one was allowed to rise until Flint gave the word. If he wasn't satisfied that his point had been made, he would tell Jaeger to go another round. That was what had happened after the flag incident.

Ace waited and wondered why Flint hadn't said anything one way or the other yet. At the very least, wasn't he about to explain the fumigation process? He didn't look up, though. That would attract Flint's attention and, if he was still mulling over whether he was done with them or not, it was best not to push him to a more negative outcome with eye contact.

"OLIVER, RICK, MICHAEL, CASEY, JASON, ACE!" he bellowed. Something had irked him, he was back to bellowing. "UP HERE, NOW!" He slammed his cane on the opposite side from the three he pulled out earlier. Ace, Jason and the others he called rose to their feet and walked over to where he indicated, lining up and facing those who were still face down. "ON YER KNEES!" They complied.

"Now I believe I asked a question. Were ye lot not listening?" said Flint to the prone men in sickly sweet voice. Ace decided he rather Flint be yelling, it was less terrifying. No one dared say anything. "Ten, Bosun." Jaeger went back to work.

"Just to remind ye lot that the fumigant we use to get the rats is deadly to humans too. Breath it in or get too much residue on yer skin and ye keel over hours later. So, ye really do need to be paying attention when yer Captain is giving instructions about this sort of thing. Understand?"

This time everyone shouted, "Yes, sir!"

"Good! First order of business is to remove everything from the ship," said Flint while the whip continued to crack. "And, yes, that includes everything in the lower hold which is why we'll be vulnerable. Fumigant is going to fill the entire ship with its poison, we dinnae want anything onboard that might absorb it to poison us later. Not even the gold.

"Once everything is removed and the fumigant is doing its work, we will need to check every bit of the cargo and discard anything that had been ruined by the rats, clean whatever can be salvaged and generally make sure they aren't hiding in the cargo to re-infest the ship. The fumigated areas will be sealed for six hours to make certain the buggers, and their flees, are truly dead. So, ye will have plenty of time to clean every sheet, sail, cloth, pan, pot, statuette and whatever else we haul off the ship that is compatible with water and soap.

"Once six hours are past, we will open the ship to let her air out, that will take another six hours because of all the little spaces that dinnae air well. We will need to keep all inner doors and hatches open when we fumigate. Only the outer hatches will be closed or else she willnae air well, and ye'll have plumes of poisonous fumes washing over ye when we do the next part. If any of ye have a desire for an early grave, then by all means, leave the inner hatches shut. Just make sure ye're the one that enters the area to clean it afterwards.

"Once the ship is aired, ye'll be donning our special suits that will protect ye from the residual poison that is to be found in the haul as ye clean her. It will also be protecting ye from the special scrubbing powders that will work as neutralizers to the poison but will burn yer skin if ye touch it. Ye will be scrubbing every piece of wood with the stuff before going over it again with soap and water. The final step will be absorbent to draw out the excess water. Ye'll then sweep that up and dump it overboard. This will also take several hours. Once she is cleaned and dry then we will be loading everything back onto the ship, returning cargo to their proper locations. Sensitive items first, naturally."

Ace flinched when a cool damp cloth touched his lashes and he turned his head slightly. The ship's doctor, Quarken, was kneeling behind him as he cleaned the wounds, muttering under his breath as he worked. Ace returned his attention to Flint.

"This operation is not going to end until the ship is back in order. So, no one eats, and no one sleeps until this is finished. Am I clear?" Everyone answered in the affirmative.

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This was originally the chapter where Rasputan first materialized. He was one of the random name calls. In the edit, he was removed from the name call because he would have been one of the officers and not a grunt. It's funny how some characters come into existence. Writing various scenes has always been the best way to flesh out a world.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	34. Exposed

Chapter 34: Exposed

It was hot but it was the middle of summer and much of East Blue suffered from unbearable heat during this time. The ocean winds were the only source of relief for islanders. Workers and sailors of all kinds were used to working in this kind of heat with little to no complaining. Only aristocrats and city folk moaned about the heat as they lazed about fanning themselves.

The unloading, however, took more work than usual. They were anchored off the shore of an unoccupied island and they had to load their cargo, crate by crate, onto the longboats then row them to the beach where they were then carried further up the sands to be safely stowed among the trees. No need to advertise to any passing ships what their cargo was or that they were in a temporary crisis. Opportunists would strike if they thought a ship vulnerable even if they weren't career pirates.

While opportunists could be held off through force of arms, but if an actual pirate ship did attack, they were screwed. A Pirate's advantage was their position on the sea, not the land. The Maiden's Sorrow was effectively disarmed, and the crew couldn't stand against cannon fire from a ship they couldn't reach.

Flint's anger was very understandable. So was his need to address this pest problem immediately. Removing the cargo revealed, to the captain's relief, that the well packaged Sapphire Dragon Fruit they had procured for the second half of the trade deal with the Duchy of Kels was still intact. There were signs the rats had tried to enter the crates, but the boxes proved impenetrable. They had been made with special material to keep the fruits cool and fresh on the voyage. It may have even been designed with rats in mind.

The crates that held the wine were not so lucky. Those crates had distinct holes in them. The bottles, however, were packed standing up with their corks flush with the top of the glass bottled and covered in sealing cloth to guarantee the bottle was untampered with. The rats had breached the outer container but that was as far as it got. Their teeth couldn't gnaw through the thick glass of the bottles. Still it was a bad look for the expensive wine. They would have to make new wine crates and repackage the items. And they needed to do that straight away because the wine was temperature sensitive. If they left it exposed to the outside air too long it would sour, ruining it. First the new crates to be made and then digging a six-foot whole among the shady trees where they were to be buried until it was time to load everything back up. All of which had to be done before the wine left the lower holds, delaying the start of the gassing by a day.

Their own food stores were a disaster. Nothing was salvageable. Everything had either been nibbled on or peed on. Silver got a lot of side-eye from the rest of crew while insisting this was all a recent development and that what he had been serving until then had been fine. Silver had a habit of moving food from the stores to the galley days in advance and the galley store area, while many times smaller than the regular store area, was a large metal box separate from the ship's walls. The crew accepted they hadn't been served tainted food. This would not solve their immediate food problems as Silver only had a day's worth left in the galley when this was all discovered. They would have to scrounge for food on the island or fish. Tasks to be done while the ship was being treated.

The five alias flags, the anonymous pirate flag and their own Headhunter flag had taken severe damage from nesting mothers and their babies. So had various rail bands that were used to change the ship's appearance. Flint's eyebrow twitched when he saw their flag and there was a general fear he would order a second whipping.

The cannons were a trick to remove. One by one they had to be lifted out of the hold and onto a longboat. The pulley system designed to aid in the raising and lowering of heavy cargo easily handled the task of moving the cannons to the longboats. The hard part was getting them up the shore and into the trees. The cradles did not climb the sandy beach well and sank in as the men tried to push them up the shallow slope. While men could work together to lift the cannons out of the longboats, carrying them the thirty feet to the tree line, and possibly further in, was not feasible. There were attempts but the sand was too unstable secure footing and they risked dropping the heavy weapons on themselves.

Flint refused to give them any hint of how to overcome this obstacle. Considering they were pressed for time; this was an odd response. Either he was that mad over the whole thing or he didn't know a solution either and refused to admit it. Probably a combination of the two, he was too mad to think of one.

Austin and Jaeger were several times as frustrated as everyone else, especially Austin since the cannons were his babies. Silver wasn't fairing any better with ideas. Schemer he may be, problem solver he was not. Probably why he had yet to take over the Maiden's Sorrow.

Ace, disgusted with the whole thing, stormed off into the forest, ignoring the shouts of everyone. He returned seconds later with the planks of wood from the ruined wine chests and laid them down in front of his cannon like a pair of tracks. Bullying Jason into helping him, the only one he could bully into doing anything, he and the other young man managed get the wheels of the cradles onto their associated planks. The cannon rolled forward with considerably more ease than before. They stopped only to move the planks that were now behind the cannon to the front before they started forward again. After seeing their progress, the rest of the crew followed suit.

Flint said nothing, but Ace swore he caught a smirk and a nod of approval from the captain. Possibility number three: Flint hadn't said anything just to force Ace to work it out for himself. Or it really was possibility number one: he was just being ornery but appreciated someone being smart.

Scottie would not stop complaining about how the gas was going to ruin the engines. That he would have to take them apart and clean or replace whole sections to make them functional again. How they would be useless until he could do that, and they still might not work right because they were such delicate instruments. And this was all so terrible. Flint ordered the crew to help Scottie remove the engines without sinking the ship. It took all night.

Rasputan sat on a rock the whole time intently focused on his game of cat's-cradle. Ever since the confrontation between Flint and Rasputan, the crew had been debating whether Flint wasn't as scary as he made himself out to be or if Rasputan was just that much scarier, or just plain crazy. Which is a very scary idea on its own. After the failed mutiny, everyone concluded it was safer to accept the later argument. No one said anything about Rasputan's bizarre activity.

Ace, having witnessed Rasputan's activities in his own cabin, thought he was actually doing something. He had seen the Cossack working a one-handed cat's-cradle during the Marine attack and he remembered the Den Den Mushi had failed to connect when it had plenty of time to do so. Ace hadn't thought to connect the two originally, and even thought he had been seeing things with Rasputan during the fight. Then there had been the water being warm when it should have been cold and how well, and quickly, Ace had healed. Rasputan had some sort of ability. He just didn't brag about it.

After the gassing of the ship was done, the crew then had to go back to the ship to scrub every plank and board. Worse, they had to do that while wearing the special gassing equipment as they worked to keep from being poisoned by whatever was left in the ship's holds. The lower hold was especially dangerous. It only had one hatch, no air circulation and was resting below the water's surface. A few lucky ducks were picked to go below while wearing airbags for breathable air and pump the poisoned air out with a bellows designed for this purpose. They switched out with another pair after half-an-hour and went outside to gasp clean, fresh air, with just their regular masks. Due to the lower hold being full of poisonous gas, they were not supposed to remove the masks without first rubbing the neutralizing salt all over the outfits and mask. It was easier to just to leave the masks on.

Everyone was extra hot, extra tired, extra hungry and so extra cranky. The trouble started when a one-eyed brute called Raymond decided to voice his objection to the whole thing.

"Why do we have to work like dogs for someone else's fuck up?" he demanded, throwing down his mop.

"Because this needs to be done quickly," replied Flint from the main deck.

Ace ignored the pointless outburst and kept mopping. A couple stopped to look at Raymond. The rest just shot him an annoyed look and kept going.

"This is all bull shit! You whip everyone for something they didn't do and have us running ragged with empty bellies and no sleep, again for something we didn't do! You're punishing all of us for the puppy's mistake."

Now Ace stopped. He was called a lot of impolite things by the crew, but those foul names were generally shared with others. However, "puppy" was exclusively his. He held his tongue. Getting defensive was the same as screaming "I'm guilty as charged."

"What makes ye so sure of that?" asked Flint, his posture relaxed but his tone cold.

Raymond turned and stormed over toward Ace. "Because this little shit is always causing trouble!" He grabbed the front of Ace's leather smock. The action loosened Ace's gas mask, not enough for him to breath in unfiltered air but enough to become concerning. Much of the poison had left the air of the inner holds but there was still enough that needed the masks to filter it out. Until the neutralizing salt had been applied to every plank and board the poison that had settled on the wood would continue to evaporate into the air.

"Let go of me!" demanded Ace. He tried to pull the man's hand off him but that only served to shift his mask further.

"Confess, little shit!" roared Raymond. He grabbed Ace's mask. Several surrounding men shouted. The mask was yanked off just as a shot rang out. Raymond stiffened then fell, blood sprouting from a wound in his head. Flint stood in the hatch; his gun drawn.

"Ace! Get up here! Now!" ordered Flint.

Ace held his breath, there was no point putting the mask back on. Once the inner clean area was contaminated with unfiltered outside air the mask was useless until it was cleaned. He raced up the ladder to the main deck and took a couple steps away from the hatch. He coughed out the breath he had been holding. His eyes burned and his lungs convulsed.

"Get yerself and yer equipment cleaned and see Quarken on shore immediately," said Flint. "Once he's cleared ye, get back over here and take a turn on the bellows." He then turned to face the men below. "Dinnae be getting any ideas. If ye remove yer masks on purpose, I'm leaving ye down there to die!"

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Rats in the Hold was supposed to be a two chapter endeavor with a conflict and death. However, it expanded and things became more hazardous for Ace.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	35. Clarity

Chapter 35: Clarity

Ace didn't return to the ship. Flint and Jaeger came back to shore with a bunch of exhausted, hungry and irate crew at sunset. The smell of cooking food quelled the worst of their anger. The cargo hadn't been returned to the ship, but it looked like they were going to be fed.

Flint scowled as he looked over to where their shore side camp was set up. Ace sat on a log with one of Scottie's contraptions against his face. He glanced up and even in the fading daylight, Flint saw the young man's eyes were blood shot. He was deathly pale with a hint of green. One hand held the mask in place, the other was wrapped around his stomach.

The captain glanced at the ship's doctor who was ordering the crew to strip and wash with his medicated soup bars. Jason, who had been ashore to help Austin and Silver in food procurement, took the discarded smocks and masks with gloved hands. He then set about dipping them in a tub filled with neutralizing solution.

"I take it ye didnae clear the lad, yet," said Flint.

"Great Jupiter, man, no!" exclaimed Quarken, as if that was the most outrageous thing Flint could suggest.

Flint tilted his head. For the old doctor to invoke Jupiter meant the situation was very serious, and the man was very mad at his captain.

"Ye sent him back when the cleaning had barely begun! He didnae strip fast enough after losing his mask and worse he grabbed the material with his bare hands instead of keeping the gloves on until last. Why didnae ye remind him to keep the gloves on? The cleaning process of the ship helps to clean the smocks, making all this more ceremonial than necessary," Quarken said while gesturing to the tub Jason was loading with smocks and masks, "but that soon out of the hull with the cleaning barely begun? He had been their just long enough for his smock to have acquired a fair amount of the residue but not long enough to get any neutralizing solution on it. He breathed in too much of the fumes that were on his smock and got it all over his hands. I'm amazed he didnae keel over midway."

Flint pinched his nose. Was he getting old? Why hadn't he told Ace to use the gloves to remove the smock? Or had he just never cared enough about his crew these past thirty years to pay attention to things that might kill them unnecessarily?

Quarken was still ranting. How much of this was left over anger about his order to put Ace in the brig without medical treatment last month, and how much was about Ace's current condition was hard to tell. The doctor was a long burn when it came to these sorts of things.

"…coughing blood, bleeding from the eyes, nose and mouth! Had to call Rasputan off his 'see-me-not' mumbo jumbo to help and Scottie whipped that thing together in five heartbeats from some of his spare parts. He still can't breathe without sucking on it! I'm not letting him work for the next two days! I dinnae care about how much the crew mutters! And I'm giving the lot of them food, to Hades with yer orders and yer tantrum! No one can work like this for long on empty stomachs and ye need to let them sleep tonight. Ship needs to dry off and the hunt was good. There int anything for them to do right now anyway. Ye hear me, ye heathen of the river Styx?"

"Fine, fine…" said Flint waving a hand in surrender. When Quarken got going, only a full concession to his directive would shut him up. Given the grave nature of Ace's condition, Flint didn't have the will to continue to be a hard ass.

Quillan snorted his disapproval from behind Flint. The captain turned his head slowly to glare at his vice-captain, but Quarken beat him to the punch.

"Ye have a problem with my directive, Vice-Captain?" demanded Quarken, planting his fist on his hips and puffing out his chest in full defiance. Given Quarken's advanced years, boney frame, balding head, and hawk nose, it was more comical than intimidating.

"This operation is already taking longer than it should and we have a delivery to make," said Quillan while looking down his nose. He was almost equally comical in his display given that he was almost equally bold despite being a few decades younger than the doctor, placing him in the same age bracket as Flint. He was a bit more filled out than the doctor, though. Chest puffed and shoulders squared, it looked as if the two might start slapping each other in indignant outrage over the matter at any minute. "Besides it does no good for the captain to rescind his earlier edict. The crew will lose respect."

_That again?_ Flint began another reassessment of Quillan's value to him. The man had goaded him into losing his temper, causing the loss of a valuable trade deal, driving him to nearly kill Ace and causing Rasputan to have to challenge him in front of the entire crew. The mutiny that followed after could have been inspired by that, making Quillan indirectly responsible for it as well. Flint was not blaming Rasputan for any of it. The man had been looking out for Flint's best interest and had tried to settle it more quietly prior. Flint had just been too mad to hear him. And had Rasputan been hinting that Quillan had put Miciron up to trying to kill Ace a few months ago? The memories of that night were fuzzy. Rage was never a good thing with him, he could barely remember what he did when he was in that state.

Now here was Quillan being an ass to the good doctor. It wasn't the first time Flint had conceded to the doctor in his thirty plus year career as a pirate. Yet Quillan was taking issue with this concession. Why? Flint decided he didn't care why. Doctors were the final word on the ship since they could declare the captain unfit for duty.

"A timely delivery went flying out the window when we discovered rats aboard our ship. When we load, we'll need them to be sharp of eye and sound of wit to make sure we dinnae bring the problem back aboard. They'll move slower if they're exhausted. Let them have the night to recover."

"The captain said no one would rest until the job was done."

As much as Flint believed in letting his officers fight their own battles, this was getting ridiculous. Quillan seemed to have forgotten Flint was standing right there.

"It's called a change of plans, Quillan. This is taking longer than expected due to unforeseen circumstances. The ship and the equipment need to dry anyway. Besides, Quarken is the doctor. He gets to make these calls when it concerns the health of the crew. Since I dinnae want to have another rat problem, I'll concede to his expertise on the matter. Stop giving me unnecessary trouble, Quillan. Ye're on thin ice as it is."

Quillan's outraged face blanched at the words. Had he not realized he was getting on Flint's nerves? Quarken crossed his arms and nodded his head. Not an ounce of sympathy to be found for the other man.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Happily rested and well fed, the crew spent the next day loading everything back up after a thorough check for anymore furry stowaways. They used Ace's trick with the cannons and were able to load them in a third of the time it had taken them the other day. The wine was dug up, the fresh crates whole and intact, and stowed in the lower hold, which was smelling particularly fresh after the cleaning and air circulation. The ship's treasure chests joined them. The Sapphire Dragon Fruit crates went next followed by everyone's personal things, the equipment and the furniture.

The destroyed railing decorations were used as firewood along with the ruined flags. The railing decorations would have to be recreated at a later date. Jason had already remade their pirate flag and the anonymous pirate flag. The rest of the flags would have to be reacquired from their respective countries. Until then the Maiden's Sorrow would have to sail as the "Andrea of the Duchy of Kels" when she wasn't playing pirate. That was all she had left to her.

Ace was still on his breathing contraption looking miserable. No one gave him any stink eyes, though. They figured Flint went soft on them because of how sick his puppy had become. They also were just a twinge horrified about what a little bit of that fumigant could do to a man. Their equipment and been hot and uncomfortable and made the work even harder in how it hindered their movements, but it had been very necessary.

"All right, now that I don't have to hide us from view," said Rasputan as he entered the medical ward where Ace was still struggling to breath, "let me take a look at you and see how to fix this."

"This is supposed to be irreversible, Ras," said Quarken, looking miserable. "Ye asked I not mention that to Flint earlier and I didnae, but still… If he doesn't get off that machine, it's going to be obvious."

"You did an excellent job clearing the poison from his lungs and blood. Scottie did an excellent job making breathing machine to help him while he heals. Now it is my turn to do an excellent job in encouraging regrowth of delicate lung tissue."

"If I didnae know better, I would believe yer claims to being a witch with actual magic," said Quarken as he sat down with a relieved sigh. "All I know is that ye make my job that much easier."

Despite his exhaustion from fighting to breathe, Ace had enough focus to think about what he was hearing. Rasputan was a witch? Weren't witches supposed to be old ladies with black cats? Still the words about magic gave him pause. The cat's-cradle from the Marine incident and yesterday, and the warm water and healing came to mind. Yesterday, Quarken had called Rasputan's activities as "see-me-not" mumbo jumbo. "See-me-not" as in, "don't see me", a spell to keep anyone sailing by from noticing the ship and the crew? If Rasputan was a witch, who could use real magic not the slight-of-hand stage magician stuff, then a lot of things started to make sense.

Ace waited as Rasputan slid his gentle fingers over his chest and across his back. He then guided Ace with soft pressure to lie down. Ace complied waiting to see how he would heal his damaged lungs. Potions? Leaves? Thinking of the light in the bath water. Straight magic? He closed his eyes and prepared to accept Rasputan's magic.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rasputan paused for a moment, his fingers freezing on Ace's panting chest. There had been a shift in his aura. Dealing with Ace had felt like trying to see through murky water. There had been enough clarity to get an idea of what was going on with his body but that was all shallow water. To see the depths where the death curse had burrowed itself had been impossible, so he hadn't been able to do anything about it when Ace had been under his direct care.

Just now that water cleared. It was as if he were looking through glass. He could see everything with his inner sight. The chemical burns in Ace's lungs as well as the death curse. Rasputan's gaze flicked up to Ace's face. The young man had closed his eyes and seemed to be waiting.

Then it hit him. Quarken had said it. The doctor may not believe entirely but to Ace, who had the opportunity to observe and be exposed to Rasputan's craft, Quarken's words answered questions Rasputan hadn't been willing to, hadn't been able to.

Ace believed. He hadn't felt strongly one way or the other before, hence the murkiness, but now he actually believed.

Rasputan looked into Ace as he began to cast his spells and rubbed the herbs into Ace's chest. The combination would allow Ace's body to recognize the damaged tissue and restore it to what it had been. It wasn't a complicated matter for him. Healing had always been his strong suit. As he continued to rub the herbs into the young man's skin, he sent his consciousness deeper.

The death curse was weak, the murk had been the only thing protecting it from Rasputan. Without that protection it was easy to dispose of. Without the darkness caused by the grim reaper's shadow, Ace's soul brightened. The Cossack suppressed his shock. This was why Ace had felt special.

In that moment, Rasputan knew he would have to do everything in his power to protect Ace from those that would try to use him, devour him or destroy him.

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Of course Ace got hurt again, at least the crew got a break because of it.

And Ace finally figures out Rasputan, sort of, and is free of the death curse. I did debate on whether it would be a more elaborate ceremony to get rid of it or if it was going to cling to him all the way to Paramount but… No.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	36. Infiltration

Chapter 36: Infiltration

Ace huffed as he sat on the stairs leading to the helm. The Maiden had pulled into port and everyone but the new guy, Andy, Johnson and him were off the ship. They were in Loguetown, the supposed last port before the entrance to the Grandline. It was also the famed hometown of his father as well as his execution ground. Ace wasn't sorry he was stuck onboard. He had no desire to set foot in his old man's hometown.

Or maybe he was just trying to convince himself he wasn't mad that Flint still had no faith in him. Ace had promised he wouldn't run away anymore, yet, if he wasn't with the captain on one of his trade deals, he was on the ship.

Ace had long since finished his chores and his homework was done, even the extra assignments meant to keep him busy until Flint returned. Ace's reading had improved as well as his math skills. Once he had passed a certain point, things just started to click. Ace hadn't alerted Flint to that development yet. He would just get assigned more work if Flint realized he could do the assignments faster now and Ace was enjoying the breathing room.

Ace was now fiddling with a string he had tied together to make a circle. He was trying to replicate Rasputan's cat's-cradle technique. How did he do a "see-me-not" spell with just a piece of string or was their chanting involved? Remembering the muttering the Cossack would do as he worked, he sighed. There was probably some special chanting involved. However, he continued to play with the string, nothing else to do.

Johnson snored away from where he sat against the mast. Ace glowered at him but considered it a blessing and planned to kick him away when the crew started to return. The man was a loudmouth who didn't know when to shut up and his voice was super annoying. Ace preferred him asleep, he was used to tuning out snoring. The last few months had given him lots of practice.

Andy had wandered up to the bow a moment ago. Ace looked up, trying to spot him, but his fellow watcher was not in sight. He got up, putting the string in his pocket, then grabbed his staff and wandered up to the bow to see what Andy was doing. Andy was new and Ace was being paranoid. Unlike him, everyone else volunteered for this role and knew what they were in for. However, Ace didn't want to get accused of helping someone escape if Andy was attempting to run off or just go out despite orders to stay put.

As he approached the bow, Ace saw Andy perched cross-legged on the head of the ship. His back was to Ace. Ace shrugged and turned to head back to his post, thinking that was it, when he heard Andy speak.

"Come in! This is Lieutenant Anderson of the 7th East Blue Corps. I need to make my report."

Ace rushed forward, his staff raised. A spy! A Marine spy!

Andy turned, hearing Ace's noisy dash, and just managed to duck Ace's strike. However, his Den Den Mushi tumbled out of his grip and fell into the water below. Den Den Mushis didn't handle salt well, submerged in saltwater it wouldn't survive long.

Andy cursed and jumped onto the deck. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Such an absurd question. "You weren't supposed to have that anyway," stated Ace as he brought his staff into a guard position.

"You're being stupid, boy," said Andy. "Most of these men are hardened killers but not you. You're still young and can change course."

"You don't know anything about me," snapped Ace as the two circled each other, his staff raised ready to strike again.

"If you were a killer, you wouldn't be hesitating like this," said Andy. "You're too good for this ship. It was easy to see within a few hours aboard. The way the crew talks about you, how Flint treats you. You don't have to be this!"

Ace kept his staff end between him and Andy, not trusting the Marine. Flint's story of long-ago betrayal echoing in his mind.

"Cooperate with Flint's capture and you'll be pardoned of any wrongdoing. I would even say you're already innocent. Everything you did was because Flint made you. He's so casual with his killing, I can see why you wouldn't think you had a choice. And you wouldn't have a choice! But if you come with me and tell the vice-admiral everything, you'll be safe, and Flint will finally be brought to justice."

"Vice-Admiral?" asked Ace. Did he work for Desiree? Desiree's smile bloomed in his mind along with her sincere offer. Flint respected her even as she tried to capture him. Perhaps he could trust this offer. His staff lowered and inch.

"One of high influence," continued Andy with a nod, gaining confidence. "The man will make sure to sign all the right documents of pardon after Flint is captured. So, don't worry about being prosecuted."

"Man?" Ace's staff snapped back up. Documents? Pardons? Prosecuted? It wasn't Desiree for sure and it wasn't his grandfather. The man had claimed he was of the East Blue Corps. Garp would have sent one of his own men and they were attached to Headquarters. Either way, the offer now sounded false. His earlier soothing words, and Ace thinking it was an agent of Desiree, had lulled his guard. But the man hadn't named his vice-admiral, just promised he was of high influence. Andy could promise nothing.

Andy retreated a step at the return of Ace's hostility. Raising his hands as if in surrender. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"You liar! All your promises aren't shit!" snapped Ace and jabbed the staff forward. He would knock him out and lock him in the brig. It wouldn't do to kill someone in port. Flint could be quiet about it but not Ace. If authorities came aboard asking after the noise, he could claim an intruder was driven off or Andy was caught trying to shirk his watch. Both had an element of truth to them, so he could pass the lie, he was sure.

Andy jumped forward and knocked the staff off course. "Stupid boy." His hand shot forward with only one finger extended, it pierced Ace's chest like a dagger. Ace yelled and staggered back bringing the bottom of the staff up. Andy parried it and jabbed Ace again. This one punctured a lung and Ace coughed blood. He swung his staff with one hand as the other pressed against the wound. Andy caught it and tore it free from Ace's grip, the staff bounced on the deck and rolled back toward the pair, Andy hadn't held it for long. The man went for a third strike as Ace hit the railing.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Johnson was standing a few yards behind Andy with his sword drawn. The loudmouth was apparently a light sleeper despite his heavy snoring.

Andy hissed and spun around striking at Johnson. The man couldn't keep up with the deadly Marine. Despite having a sword, Johnson couldn't land a single blow, the blade was slapped away with every attempt. Andy, on the other hand, hit several times.

Ace grabbed his staff from where it had rolled and hurried to put distance between him and Andy. He needed to get someone else. Anyone else! Andy was too much for them. He staggered off the ship, but he began to fill dizzy from blood loss and lack of air. His lung had collapsed, and the remaining chocked on blood.

"Help!" He gasped out as he reached the end of the dock. "Help!" Several dockworkers stopped loading a nearby cargo vessel to run over to Ace.

"What happened?"

"He's been shot!"

"Get the constables!"

Ace's mind was fading, he was bleeding badly from his first wound. If they brought in Marines or even port authorities, Andy would just have to declare his rank and everything would be over. How could he stop that? His mind recalled how Flint had used the city guard to catch him when he had run away. He hadn't said anything about Flint but with the guards had been convinced he was a troublemaker; they wouldn't have believed him anyway.

Andy was the one with blood on his hands.

"The man… Andy…" gasped Ace as he struggled to get his fading mind to string together the words for the lie.

"Don't try to talk, boy, the constables will catch your attacker. Just save your strength and we'll get a doctor.

"A spy…" Ace continued despite their urgings. He had to say it. It had to be said before the constables or Marines met Andy. It wouldn't matter if they knew Andy, but if they didn't… "Flint's spy…"

The dockworkers gasped in horror and the alarm was sounded even louder. The dockworkers' fear took Ace's two word lie and spun it into a whole story of their own assumptions. Assumptions that were passed to the constables as truth.

Constables and Marines raced around seeking the man, Andy, with deadly determination.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Flint stepped out of Merchant McGuire's office and onto the street. Despite the late hour, Loguetown was slowly growing brighter as sputtering lamps were lit and people baring torches ran about with great urgency.

"What's this about?" wondered Flint as Quillan and McGuire's secretary stepped out to join him as he watched the frantic bustle below. The lights were spreading out from the docks and shouting could be heard. They were pursuing someone, that much was clear.

Just then, the answer arrived in a man with blood-soaked hands and gasping for breath. He was focused on the torches behind him and didn't see the men standing in the road ahead of him.

"Andy," Flint purred, recognizing his newest crew member. The man pulled up short and stared in wide-eyed horror. "Weren't ye on watch?"

The man didn't answer, just stared at him, his face pale. He didn't have to. The bloody hands and the angry mob beyond told Flint more than enough. He fired his gun three times and the man dropped to the ground, twitching as life fled him.

Flint handed the still smoking gun to Quillan. The secretary calmly offered her gun without even being asked. Secretaries employed by grey merchants, that plied both the light and dark of the market, were some of the most intuitive, and most prepared, women in the world. He took the gun with a smile and an offering of five gold coins before turning back to the fallen man. He took his thick handkerchief, folded it, and placed it over the gun's mouth before firing a single shot into an alley. The cloth exploded but the noise of the gun was muffled and didn't carry beyond their area. He stuck the ruined cloth into his inner pocket and placed the gun in Andy's limp right hand.

"He shot first," said Flint as he returned to his place next to Quillan and the woman. He took Quillan's gun from the vice-captain holster instead of reclaiming the one the man offered to him and stuck it beneath his jacket. Quillan, finally realizing what his captain was about, adjusted his hold on the gun to look like he had been the one to fire it.

Flint pulled out a flask and took a sip of the hard liqueur within. The stuff was disgusting and burned his throat. Which was perfect for adjusting the appearance of his face to a rattled man rather than a calm and confident one. His face paled and beads of sweat sprouted upon his forehead. He put the flask away. Madam Secretary held a hand to her heart and immediately started fanning herself adjusting her breathing to the shallower breaths that followed a great fright. Merchant McGuire definitely found a prize in this one.

The mob appeared a moment later, made up of constables and Marines. They stopped when the saw Andy lying in a pool of blood and the three standing there. Two of which appeared greatly shaken while the third still held a gun in his hand.

"That's him!" A dockworker stepped forward and pointed to the dead man. "I saw him flee the ship after murdering the watchman from the Andrea."

"Great Scotts! The Andrea is my ship!" gasped Flint, his expression one of horror. "I thought I recognized him when he ran up, but then he pulled his gun without warning. Did he really murder one of my men?"

"It was truly terrifying!" cried Madame Secretary a second later, tears brimming her eyes. "He aimed at the good Captain, but the vice-captain got the draw."

Quillan said nothing, just holstered the gun and did his best to look stoic. Which was for the best, he couldn't act to save his life.

One of the constables stepped up with a grim expression. "I'm truly sorry to report then, Captain Abrams, that is indeed the case. It appears the watchman spotted this man trying to signal Flint."

Flint let his eyes widen in surprise even if it was for entirely different reasons than what the crowd would assume. "Flint, you say?" Madame Secretary made a sound of distress while Quillan looked alarmed but held his silence.

The constable nodded. "The boy was shot twice but managed to escape the ship. Got the word out before he collapsed. He's being seen by a doctor now."

The dockworker added, "I wish we could have gotten help to the ship sooner. Flint's pirates are demons. Spotted the villain fleeing the ship all covered in blood. The poor soul aboard was butchered, his chest all torn open. It wasn't enough to just shoot the man, he had to take the time to gut him as well. A truly awful sight."

A Marine elbowed the dockworker when he noticed that Madame Secretary was swaying like she might faint. "Have a little care for the woman and the captain. That was his crewman that was murdered."

"My apologies, Madame, Captain!" gasped the dockworker as he bowed. Flint waved away the necessity of the apology as he looked down and away. The perfect image of a captain in grief and trying to contain it. Quillan was a lump. No one bothered to give him a second look, dismissing him as being extra stoic in the face of troubling news.

A Marine came and spat on Andy's corpse. "A pity we couldn't take the wretch alive. We could have used him to track down Flint!"

"My apologies for this inconvenience," said Flint his voice strained.

"It's not your fault, Captain Abrams," said the constable. "You had to defend yourself." The Marine nodded in agreement.

"Do we know if he made contact or not?" asked Flint putting just enough quaver in his voice to sound like he was struggling to recover his focus on the more important issue.

"No," said the constable. "The boy might know but he fell unconscious. We'll have to wake him to find out. Still have no idea why Flint sent a spy."

"Perhaps that's how he spots his targets. When he hits, he always hits fat targets. You don't get that kind of accuracy from random chance," said the Marine. "We'll be extra vigilant about these type of spies in the future."

"A traitor crewman aboard a trade ship. Would explain why he is more interested in leaving the crew and passengers of such targets unmolested if they surrender straight away. Then the plant remains hidden," added the constable.

Flint was completely amused with their reasoning. It wasn't bad reasoning, but this unexpected incident had just spun a falsehood into an already cloudy image. Further obscuring the truth of what he was. Still…. Had Ace really lied that well? He was so honest, and he wore his heart on his sleeve, Flint couldn't imagine he could ever spin a tell like that. Maybe he'd underestimated the lad. He wouldn't know until he retrieved Ace and could ask him in private how he did it. Either way he owed Ace big. That was a shocking turn of events, one that caused his chest to swell with pride.

For now, it seemed, the immediate crisis was over. He just had to recover Ace, get his cargo and pay Madame Secretary an extra fat tip. Her performance had really sold the show.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We can only assume Stockholm's Syndrome was in full swing for Ace by this time.

Not that the spy was a good Marine that would keep his word.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	37. Vanishing Time

Chapter 37: Vanishing Time

Everyone was in shock a Marine spy had managed to get onboard. Quillan had wanted to continue the argument that Ace was causing Flint to lose his touch, but it had been Ace that had caught the Marine red handed, Ace who destroyed the Den Den Mushi before it could get through, and Ace who had sent the port authorities after Andy. As such, Quillan had been shut down and now pouted while keeping to himself in his little office, burying himself in the ship's finances and trade dealings. Flint was growing more concerned by his vice-captain's behavior. It was almost as if Ace's existence was a personal affront to the man.

More alarming about this incident had been that the spy had been an elite. Not just any Marine could do Finger Pistol. Ace's wounds had looked like gun shots, but Andy had been unarmed. Rasputan had appeared soon after the shouting had begun. As the dockworkers spoke of getting the young man to the doctor, the Cossack had insisted on retrieving Quarken, claiming Ace had a delicate constitution that needed his doctor in order to do proper treatment. This stopped the town doctor from getting to examine the lad and noticing there were no bullets in Ace's wounds when there were no exit holes to explain their absence.

It had taken Flint several hours of finagling, all the while remembering to be a touch emotional about the tragic situation, to get the authorities to let him leave. Everyone was concerned he was going to be targeted by Flint and wanted him to stay safe in the port until Marine battleships could be summoned to the area. Fearing it would be Desiree, (and wouldn't she just love this,) Flint had to convince the authorities of Loguetown that whether he left now or later, wouldn't change a thing. If he was being targeted, then he couldn't avoid it without giving up his business. Bribing officers under these circumstances was never a good idea, so he didn't bother.

Once they were away, Flint had gone to see Ace. The lad's lie had been a simple one, it turned out. The over imaginative dockworkers had filled in the rest and that was the best way to lie. To unravel it, someone would have to think about what they had been told versus what they had assumed, and memories weren't very good about delineating between the two. And it would grow harder to make that determination as more time passed.

The captain of the Headhunter Pirates felt pride in his cabin boy over a job well done. This situation would have been the perfect opportunity for Ace to escape. Once he realized Andy was contacting the Marines and with Johnson snoring away, he could have just walked off the ship and vanished into the night. The Marines would have been on Flint before he even realized the lad was gone. He didn't tell Ace this, though. If he hadn't realized it, it wouldn't do any good to point it out to him now.

However, the whole thing bothered Flint. There had been attempts by Marines to get a spy onto his ship before, but he had always spotted them. That was why Den Den Mushis were not allowed on the ship unless they were under his control. This time not only had he allowed an elite Marine to board his ship, but he had missed the Den Den Mushi the man had brought with him. Andy had been careful and had not tried to make his report before he thought he was alone. If Ace hadn't gone to check on him, he would have been very successful in blowing the cover off Flint's entire operation. A major slip up on his end and it wasn't the first this year. In fact, he started to wonder if his feelings for Ace really had caused him to lose his edge as Quillan suggested.

After Ace was confirmed to be well on the road to recovery, he brought Rasputan and Quarken into his office, the only two he trusted with his concerns.

"The only thing I found different about ye these last few months is that ye are more likely to check yerself," said Quarken with a harrumph. "That, I declare, is a marked improvement. Even if ye only check yerself in regard to yer responses to the lad."

Rasputan, however, sat down and puffed his long pipe, before saying in a grave voice, "Flint, you're getting worse." Quarken glared at the Cossack then sighed and looked down, a telling sign that he agreed with the assessment even, though, he wished it hadn't been said. Flint understood what the man was referring to and closed his eyes.

Quarken had identified a tumor in Flint's head when Flint had collapsed inexplicably years ago. They had been lounging on Angelina, the Headhunter's private sanctuary, when it happened, and it had been Rasputan who had found Flint, lying in a heap on the forest floor. The captain had been enjoying a quiet walk through the tame forests when he had blacked out. No one had been nearby when it happened, and a few hours had passed before he was discovered. The Cossack had carried Flint to an old ruin, leaving the disoriented Captain there before returning with the doctor, all while avoiding the rest of the crew. Neither man had informed the crew after Quarken's treatment and prognosis since that would have ended the Headhunter Pirates.

Since then Quarken and Rasputan had collaborated to create a medicine that could arrest the tumor's growth. Short of a major operation that would require equipment only found in Marine hospitals and risk Flint's life with trying to remove the vile growth, that was the best they could do. It seemed now the medication had reached limits of what it could handle. The tumor had become resistant to the drug and was slowly growing once again.

Flint was quiet for a moment. He was not afraid to die. He accepted that as his fate when he began all this, but he always thought it would be with a bullet or by a blade. To fall to a disease that was literally devouring his brain, the one thing he prized above all else, was bitterly ironic. It wasn't Ace causing his dulled edge, which he was grateful for, it was just bad timing.

"How much longer?" he whispered.

"I dinnae know, I need to give ye a full assessment before I can even try, but if the crew finds out…". Quarken didn't need to finish that sentence. If the crew found out he was dying, they'd mutiny in a heartbeat. Silver was poised to take his place and the officers knew he was planning to teach Ace his tricks to navigation. Silver would probably wait until he was sure Ace had learned them. Then he would take over and Ace would never be free.

Rasputan blew a thin stream of smoke. "The next time we head to Angelina, it will probably be to bury you."

The captain went cold at Rasputan's words. The Cossack possessed a lot of insight into things. Flint didn't question his prediction. He hadn't discussed leaving the East Blue just yet, but it was something he planned to do before the year was out. He'd been here longer than he had intended already. This meant his remaining time could be measured in months unless his wits left him entirely before then.

So little time and yet so much left to do. How terrible a thing to have need of more time at the exact moment when it was running out. Ace wasn't ready! He only just begun to bloom in his own right despite the rocky soil he had been rooted in. Flint had so much more to teach him before the lad could go out and be successful in the world.

_I need to put everything in order. I need to plan for him to be on his own before year's end, _thought Flint. He sighed. _Maybe it's better this way. I can't ruin him any further with my deviltry. I can pass on the pure knowledge through my writings and leave all this horror out._

Flint stood up. "I guess I should stop hesitating then."

"Captain…" Quarken didn't know what to say. A doctor's woe was watching his patient slowly die before him, beyond his ability to help. He had been dreading the tumor's return after they had forced it into a retreat.

"You're going to give it to him?" asked Rasputan. The Cossack was all business. Flint felt grateful for that. It kept him from feeling pitied. He was not a creature deserving of pity. No one should mourn his loss, the man deserving of such tears had died thirty-three years ago.

"He's reached a turning point in his development, both in his education and as a man," said Flint as he stopped before his shelf. He gently shooed away the large gray wolf spider that watched proceedings without comment. She moved without complaint and Flint pulled down a small box and opened it.

A small pendant, no more than two inches long and not even an inch at its widest, made of white and rose gold, sat within. It was the image of a skull with a sword running through the top and out the bottom. The skull was pressed against the pommel of the sword's cross-guard, while the majority of the length of the blade went out the bottom. While the sword and the skull were shod in white gold the image was flush against a rose gold spade.

"You remembered his flag," said Rasputan with a grin as Flint held up the small pendant. The sword in the skull was Flint's symbol. The spade was Ace's. The crew all had sword-in-the-skull pendants. Most were the same, but the officers all tended to customize theirs. Jason had dual sabers as part of his. Ace's little pirate flag with its spade jolly roger had been destroyed shortly after he had been conscripted onto the ship. Flint had commissioned it months ago but there had been no reason before now to give it to the young man. He doubted Ace would keep it once he left the ship, but Flint hadn't felt like going cheap with the pendant. He had the money to spend, he could afford it.

"Time for him to learn how to navigate," said Flint with a grim smile. "While I still have the capacity to teach him."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Quarken and Rasputan left the captain's cabin. It was late at night and no one was awake, save the assigned watch who were too far away to hear the whispered exchange between the men.

"Is there nothing we can do for the captain now?" asked Quarken, sadness filling his hushed words.

"Nothing. I warned then that this was not a cure," said Rasputan, his voice was quiet, but he sounded unconcerned.

"I know! But yer ability to mix medicine, to heal…"

"I am not a god, Quarken. I have limits, too."

"There must be some way…"

"Not without destroying him. We have to accept that this is the final voyage for the Headhunter Pirates. We all need to start planning on what to do when the time comes."

Quarken sighed then composed himself. His professionalism recovered, he spoke again, "Silver is going to take the ship as soon as Flint falls, ye and I both know that. He's been the heir to this flag for ten years now."

"Unfortunately, it won't survive him," said Rasputan with a shrug. "He doesn't have the charisma to make this work. If he's smart, he'll build something new rather than attempt to maintain the old. However, whatever he plans, I'm not going to be part of it."

"What do ye plan on doing?"

"What I was doing before. Wander around. Say hello to my late wife. Pester Anastasia. Though, I'm thinking of checking on something, first. What do you plan on doing?"

"I didnae know ye were married," said Quarken, giving the Cossack an awed look.

"It was long ago, many lifetimes ago," replied Rasputan, sounding sad for the first time. "So, what of you?"

Quarken sniffed. "To start fresh at my age… I have no love of Silver. If I can, I'd rather stay with the lad. At least until he got his feet under him."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Jaeger sat at the helm. Eavesdropping was second nature to him; it was the best way to maintain order on the ship. He needed to know the mood of the crew if he was to keep them in line without pushing them over the edge. Tonight, he wished he had minded his own business.

He had no aspirations to be Captain, that was why he was trusted with the amount of authority he wielded. As such, he wasn't dangerous for him to learn that his captain was dying. It was still something he would rather have remained ignorant of until it happened. He was certain the watch in the crow's nest hadn't heard a thing and all the other men were asleep. The real threat was that with this information, he was going to feel compelled to speak with Austin about it. While Austin was no threat either, just the act of speaking could risk the dire news being overheard again.

Rasputan was right, however. If this was the last voyage of the Headhunter Pirates, then they did need to make plans. Jaeger couldn't know what he would do with himself once the crew was disbanded. Not without spending some time discussing it with Austin. For all of Flint's heavy-handedness and murderous authority, he did run a tight ship. Most pirates couldn't claim that. The bosun found the thought of moving on to another pirate ship with its looser authority unappealing. Yes, this would require much discussion. Just away from the eavesdropping crew.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This chapter materialized as I was adjusting an existing chapter. I did have it planned that Flint was dying of a disease that was affecting his brain, full effect to be seen later. This causes Flint to make a few adjustments to how he handles his ship.

Sorry about the delay in updating yesterday. Things got busy and I couldn't update until after I returned from work.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	38. The Gift

Chapter 38: The Gift

Ace may have only been hit twice, but Quarken had required bed rest in the medical ward while his punctured lung healed. First day of bed rest, Ace just wanted to sleep, the usual when he was recovering from any of his injuries. Second day, Flint dumped his usual assignments for Ace to complete while he was stuck there.

The third day, Ace was hit with thrice the work and a hard deadline for the next morning. Worse the assignments had gotten progressively harder as he went through them. Ace had to pull an all-nighter, but he managed to slide in under the deadline. He was oddly left alone to recuperate while Flint went over everything. Quarken's scowl of extreme disapproval leveled on their captain probably had something to do with that.

Later that afternoon Flint called him into his office. The old Captain was grinning like a fiend and that terrified Ace.

"So, once I forced those rusty gears to move and put a little oil in them, they started turning themselves without much issue," said Flint with a chuckle. "Just took a lot of hard cranking to get them started."

Ace stood before the desk, not saying anything. What could he say to that? He was thoroughly busted. He had hoped Flint wouldn't notice his increased speed with finishing the assignments, but it seemed that was over.

"Yer handwritings much improved, still not where I need it to be but that just takes practice. Yer reading is finally above that of a child and ye've mastered the basic arithmetic," said Flint as he looked over a sheet filled with writing, notes perhaps he had made as he looked over Ace's assignments. "Looks like I can start with the fun lessons now."

Ace grimaced, dreading what was to come. Flint's idea of fun and Ace's rarely matched.

"I'm taking ye off kitchen duty, Jason can handle that just fine," continued Flint, not looking up. "Ye're not learning anything there and I'm tired of all the unnecessary bruises."

Ace's jaw dropped. Flint knew Silver had been beating him excessively and only now decided to do something about it? He held his tongue less he inspired his captain to put him back on kitchen duty.

"I'm increasing yer training time with Rasputan and throwing Jaeger and Austin in at random intervals to vary yer training. Ye need to be pressured more."

"Gah!"

Flint looked up at Ace's random outburst. Ace held his hand over his mouth and shook his head. Increasing his training?! The loss of kitchen duty now made more sense. He was making room for extra training sessions! At least he was being mindful of Ace's limited hours. Still, more training? Why? And what did he mean, he needed to be pressured more?

Flint smirked at Ace. "We'll be heading to the Grandline soon and there are a few things ye need to know before we get there."

Ever since the Dancing Bear Tavern, Ace had a made a point of following Flint in the newspaper. He knew the man jumped oceans and the only way to do that was to travel the Grandline. The announcement still took him by surprise.

"Things have become too hot here," said Flint in response to Ace's unspoken question. "The number of Marine inspections has increased and even yer grandfather, the vice-admiral Garp, was conducting a few personally. It's time to move."

Ace looked away at the mention of his grandfather. Flint rapped the desk with his knuckle to draw the young man's attention back to him. His eyes were cool as he regarded his apprentice, but he continued to speak on matter at hand.

"The increased training is essential in order to draw out haki in a person." He paused and asked, "Did Garp ever teach ye about haki?"

Ace shook his head. Garp's method of teaching, was training, training and more training which resembled a one-sided pummeling rather than anything productive. The old man had never mentioned the word haki.

Flint snorted. "Well that was neglectful of him. Haki is the expression of yer will power. The sterner yer will the more likely ye will be able to use it as a weapon. Very useful against Devil Fruit users and a great way to determine the strength of an opponent before ye have to trade blows."

Ace considered Flint's description. Garp patrolled the Grandline, if not now, then in years past. He was certain his grandfather had the ability to face Devil Fruit users given that he could actually land hits on his little brother, who was a Devil Fruit user that was immune to blunt force trauma.

"I can see the gears turning in yer head. Ye seem to understand what I'm talking about, witnessed a few fights that went differently than ye were expecting?"

Ace shrugged. "I saw Jiijii handling a Devil Fruit user a few times. I just always thought, 'That's Jiijii.' I never asked him how he did it." It was the truth, minus a few details. However, did Garp have the ability to determine the strength of others? If so, then why didn't he recognize the threat in Flint when the pirate Captain had stood next to him?

"Wondering how yer grandfather failed to notice me, lad?"

Ace grimaced and swallowed. Were his thoughts really that obvious? Flint smirked. This did nothing to convince Ace his thoughts were safely beyond the man's scrutiny.

"Ye dinnae get to do the things I do, lad, without being able to slip beneath a person's notice."

_Of course, he has a trick for escaping detection even by someone with advanced sight like this haki,_ thought Ace. _He's Flint. Why wouldn't he?_ Flint continued his original topic much to Ace's disappointment. He had hoped he would hear more about this detection avoidance ability, but that would be generous.

"The stress of battle or training that puts yer life on the line will awaken it. Ye can't just mediate on it. Being able to focus yer will into a tangible force often requires the focus only impending death can bring. Hence the increased training."

_I'm going to die_, thought Ace as he stared at Flint. He felt Rasputan was giving him Garp level training as it was. Add the bosun and Master Gunner into the mix and he might just be permanently moved into the medical ward.

Ace took a deep breath then asked, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I'm not immortal, Ace," replied Flint. "Ye'll leave this ship one day, when I'm gone, and become a captain of yer own vessel. It's just too soon for ye right now. Ye're too hot-headed… and too-kind." Ace stiffened at that, but the captain continued, "Ye'll just damn yer crew with yer fire if nothing is done. When I'm done with ye, however, ye'll be a force to be reckoned with." He smirked. "Maybe even the next Pirate King."

Ace didn't like anything Flint had just said. While the One Piece was his goal, the idea of being trained into Flint's concept of a fine pirate Captain made him sick. "You can train me however you want, but I'm never going to be another you."

"That's what I'm hoping for. I dinnae intend ye to be me. I wish only to gift ye with the skills that made me successful. How ye use them is up to ye. In fact, becoming me would be the surest way to never become Pirate King. A Pirate King is so much more than just a pirate who's good at being a pirate. A man like me should never possess a crown."

Flint stood and began walking toward his shelves. "Ye'll be yer own fine Captain, lad. Of that I'm sure, ye just need to be properly tempered first and there is still plenty of that needed."

As Ace mulled over everything Flint had just said, the old Captain pushed a couple books aside then popped open a small cubby. The secrets on this ship never ceased. He pulled out a pair of items then turned and returned to his desk. Flint set the items down before him. One was a small flat box, the other was a sheathed dagger with the image of a skull on the guard.

"These are for ye," said Flint. He opened the box as Ace stared, uncomprehending. Inside was a small pendant of white and rose. A white long sword running through a skull on a rose spade. Flint gestured to the pendant. "Hook it to the loop on yer ear. I want to see how it looks on ye."

Ace swallowed. It was his pirate mark. Flint didn't do tattoos like others due to the secretive nature of his operation, but for ports that required marks of some kind to avoid trouble, these pendants served in their place. Ace had the earring stud soldered into place on his second day onboard, but there hadn't been any pendants for him to wear then. Now Flint had fashioned one for him that was unique to Ace.

Ace was scandalized that Flint had married his chosen pirate symbol with his own and yet… touched that he had remembered it after all this time. The pendant was beautifully crafted and seemed so delicate. It wasn't an exact match for the pirate flag which had the sword being driven through the forehead of the skull. Ace hooked it onto the small loop. It pulled on the stud a bit but otherwise he didn't notice its weight. It was small enough not to touch his shoulder or neck unless he dramatically swung his head around.

"Good," said Flint, pleased. "Ye'll be able to join me in Desoro this time."

"Huh?"

"We're heading to Desoro first. I would like to see if there are any big commissions for me to do before leaving. I generally like to set the ocean ablaze before I leave as a farewell tribute. Desoro is where ye find those types of commissions. I want ye with me when I make the deal, ye need exposure to the Kingpin's way of doing business."

Ace grimaced. He really didn't want to go ashore in Desoro. The port represented all sorts of things he rather not deal with ever. But if that was what Flint wanted then that was what he would have to do.

"This is also for ye," said Flint, pushing the sheathed dagger toward Ace.

Ace refrained from reaching for it as he asked, "What happened to not arming me with something pointy?"

Flint shrugged. "Oh, the training is going to include the use of daggers for ye. Though, ye will be using practice daggers not real ones and definitely not this one. This I recommend not using unless yer life is at stake. It tends to be rather final in its actions."

Ace picked up the dagger as Flint spoke. He drew it from its black sheath and gasped at the blade gleamed a faint blue. It seemed to hum as he held it and the young man swore he heard it calling to something deep within him.

"Found it on Angelina. There is no blade in the world finer than this one. Not even the black blades of the swords of legend. I suggest ye treat it as a prized treasure, Ace, and not a weapon to wield in petty fights."

Ace nodded as he sheathed the dagger. He carefully hooked it to his belt, settling it on his left side before returning his attention to his captain.

Flint sipped his tea, his eyes lost in thought for a moment. Ace wondered if he was supposed to leave but the captain spoke again. "I'm also going to be teaching ye navigation. This is not something I want the rest of the crew to be aware of, so dinnae practice or study it when I'm not around. We'll be accommodating this by doing longer lessons in the evenings. I'm going to put Jason back to full time on some of the tasks ye've been doing. So, ye willnae have to rise so early to get everything done."

Ace's heart skipped a beat. The long-awaited navigation lessons were finally going to be given, but Flint's caution left him cold. Was part of Flint's control due to the fact he was the only one who knew how to get anywhere? Then once he trained Ace, Ace would become incredibly valuable in a potential mutiny. The dagger and the intense training made more sense. Ace would need to defend himself from crewmembers who would want to use him, and he would have to be willing to kill them quick. He swallowed and looked at Flint.

"I understand, Captain," replied Ace.

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Ace gets his dagger and his earring and what a pretty earing it is.

Now begins the most dangerous part of his studies, learning Flint's navigation techniques.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	39. The Plan

Chapter 39: The Plan

Vice-Admiral Desiree grimaced as she listened to Commander Harold recount of the night a spy of Flint's was nearly caught and the revelation it brought them about his operation. It was all wrong. She knew that but listened intently anyway. Even if the surface information was worthless, the acquisition held vital nuggets. Flint didn't use spies, he sifted through information brokers and random gossip to find his targets as he plied his services as a tradesman. However, this incident meant there had been a slip up in his defenses. It wasn't the first slip up.

Desiree had kept an ear out on the Andrea's activities ever since she became certain it was really the Maiden's Sorrow. She knew of the incident where a member of the crew had jumped ship successfully. She had tried to track the person down to question them, but their trail went cold almost as soon as it began. They had planned their escape well. Now this incident where an actual spy had managed to get aboard the ship.

Flint had managed to salvage the situation turning it into more false information that would lead other Marines off on wild goose chases. To Desiree it was a sign that something had changed. She didn't know whose spy that had been. One of the other Marine commanders was her best guess, which was unfortunate. If she could verify the spy's legitimacy it might give her the evidence needed to impound the Andrea. After all, a Marine had been killed, they would need to question all witnesses and thoroughly inspect the scene of the crime. But without proof that the man had been a Marine she couldn't do it. Right now, the dead man was a proven pirate spy who had gotten caught in the act.

When the commander finished, Desiree favored him with a small smile and thanked him for the report. The commander smiled back, pleased that he could be of help and escorted the vice-admiral back to her ship.

Once onboard she began thinking about the last few months. Commander Archigold's ship and subordinates still hadn't been found. She feared the man had tried to confront Flint. He was young and eager and full of ideal justice. His hard stance against pirates had propelled him through the ranks faster than his peers but he was also, in her opinion, naïve. She wouldn't put it past him to sacrifice himself and his subordinates if he thought he could get her proof that Abrams was really Flint. She had tried to remind him in the past that he had a duty to his subordinates, but it seemed she had wasted her breath.

He had confronted Flint and lost without getting so much as a peep out to anyone. His people had died in vain. She would curse his stupidity, but she didn't believe in belittling the dead. They already paid the ultimate price for their folly. Even if he had succeeded in revealing the truth, without knowing how Flint operated completely, Flint would have just disappeared from East Blue and started over somewhere else.

Archigold's actions might have even driven Flint to flee this sea, even without the revelation, if he hadn't been boarded by Garp soon after. Garp's ignorance had reassured the pirate Captain, if she could judge such from his later actions.

She thought back to her last boarding. Young Ace trying to look defiant even as he appeared vulnerable and afraid to her. She needed to rescue that young man before he was completely corrupted by Flint. She feared she may already be too late. He was the one that had told the authorities that the man was Flint's spy. She didn't blame him. People in that situation tended to protect their captors out of desire to protect themselves. If she could just get him away from Flint…

Hendrickson approached with a grim look on his face. "I just received the report from our men in the field. You were right. Ace was a street urchin who inhabited the seediest parts of town and often stole from thugs and persons of means. He sometimes he tormented restaurants and would flee without paying his food bill. Typical crimes of the orphaned poor. Some rumors that he was being raised in the backwoods by rundown mountain bandits."

Desiree snorted in amusement at Hendrickson's last line. All savvy orphaned poor were raised by rundown mountain bandits. No one believed that children were that capable without some training.

"Jason is the one with the serious record," continued her assistant. "He is the son of Edmiston Fernand a very wealthy merchant from Grellan. Jason was supposed to inherit the business from him and was even engaged to a young woman from a minor noble family. However, on the day he disappeared he was seen running through town without his coat or swords with what appeared to be bloodstains on his trousers and boots. The bodies of his fiancée and a young man said to be his best friend were found lying in the woods. Jason's coat and swords were found abandoned there. A few witnesses mentioned seeing him boarding a trade ship that was leaving. They described the captain as having a limp and using a cane."

"A double murder and one a noblewoman? Why was a warrant not issued to the Marines once they confirmed he had fled the country?"

"To spare both families it seems. The murdered pair were found in a way that suggested they had been involved in an indiscretion when they were killed. Both families agreed to drop the matter to spare each other pain, embarrassment and lost business."

Desiree grimaced but she understood the politics behind the decision. Jason's father had spent years building a prosperous trade industry that depended on confidence and trust to continue. The nobleman's daughter had been found lying next to a man with no station or family when she had been engaged to the son of a prosperous merchant. Everyone stood more to lose by making it public than could be served by capturing the young man who was now in self-imposed exile from his homeland.

"Is there a warrant we could use?" she asked.

"Not yet, but if you spoke with Grellan yourself…"

Desiree grunted. She would make all the necessary promises to keep Jason's name, and his story, out of the public eye. The public didn't need to know of it anyway. All that mattered was Flint.

Once she had the murder warrant in hand, she would have a perfectly legal reason to remove Jason from the ship. She would come to Flint with three ships this time, not two, but the third would hang back and approach on her signal only. She didn't want him to run and she knew he would not fret about the second ship since she had been making a habit of boarding him with two. She would take no chances with him. The third ship would be insurance. Confronted with her warrant for Jason, Flint would either play the role of honest tradesman Abrams and let her take the young man, knowing she would interrogate him until he confessed everything he knew about Flint, or he could fight back, revealing himself to her. It would be his choice.

She didn't know which she preferred. A fight would give her everything right away but would place Ace at risk, unless she could impress upon her people the need to take the other cabin boy alive. Still the danger to Ace would be high. However, the alternative would be he didn't fight it, and she would have to let him sail away. She would have Jason, a source to his entire scheme, but he would still have Ace, the one she actually wanted to get off his ship. She would then be under pressure to break Jason quickly so she could catch up to Flint, who, no doubt, would be making a beeline for the Calm Belt and the Grandline beyond. If Flint escaped East Blue, she would never be able to rescue Ace and other Marines would not be as discerning. Maybe she could get Garp involved if he made it to the Grandline. Headquarters was right there.

She took a deep breath as her plan, its contingencies, began to come together.

"Is there a way I can speak to Grellan from here?"

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That is actually a pretty good plan.

If Flint's future wasn't measured in weeks this would put him in a bad bind. However, with the future lost, he would be all "Sure, take him" just so he could sail away with Ace and everyone else.

Sure Rasputan could craft a spell to silence Jason, but he needs time to craft it and this is going to take them by surprise.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	40. A Little Downtime

Chapter 40: A Little Downtime

Ace followed Flint into port of Osanato. Flint wanted the young man to join him, claiming it was for educational purposes, but Ace was suspicious. The island was a huge hub for this section of the East Blue. Every ship that wondered this part of the sea stopped here for various reasons, not all of them legit. So, it was no surprise that it housed a rather large red-light district to better service the various sailors that came here.

With Marines and legit traders as well as pirates all passing through this port, Flint's ship held its customary disguise as the Andrea of the Duchy of Kels. However, he was here for information. A dealer in Desoro had offered a huge amount of money for a particular item and Flint needed to know where it was so he could figure out a plan to acquiring it.

Why Flint was dragging Ace along for this fact-finding mission was anyone's guess. Perhaps Flint was still not convinced Ace wouldn't try to escape while the ship was under minimum watch. Perhaps it was because Flint didn't trust his crew not to try to take his ship now that Ace was learning his navigation skills. Either way, Flint decided he couldn't leave Ace alone on the ship anymore and was taking him along. He surprisingly had left everyone else behind. Even Quillan. True Quillan was in charge of trade negotiations with their cargo and this was information gathering only, but it was still strange for Flint to be traveling alone.

Ace didn't even consider running, the events in Amadeus were still large in his mind even after a couple months. He followed along like a good little subordinate and hugged the older man's shadow even more when the ladies of the red-light district began to shower him with their calls and promises of good service. They catcalled Flint as well, but he ignored them. He had a specific destination in mind.

They arrived at a large building that was part inn and part pleasure-house. It presented itself with a cooler color scheme to the others' loud hues but was clean and in good repair. However, there was absolutely nothing special about it as far as Ace could tell. He wondered why Flint had brought him to this specific brothel. And why a brothel anyway? Weren't they in the port for information about the Eye of Erousha?

A woman appeared and waved at Flint. Her chocolate brown hair was tied up in a high fat bun with blue and orange colored chop sticks holding it in place. She wore a colorful kimono of blues fading into violets with stars and moonscape design on it. In her hand was a black thin pipe, similar in style to the one Rasputan always smoked, that added an air of authority to her seductive elegance.

"Hello there, Abrams," she said in a rich contralto. She then leveled her violet eyes on Ace. "Who's this cutie?"

Ace turned red at the sudden attention and stepped slightly behind Flint. Her makeup was only slightly over the top with black mascara highlighting long eyelashes, sharp cheek bones accented by blush, skin only slightly colored instead of stark white and red plump lips.

Flint grinned, amused by Ace's obvious discomfort. "His name is Ace, and he's our newest cabin boy."

"Why he's positively adorable? How do you keep your hands off him, Abrams?"

Ace looked between the two unnerved by the direction the conversation was going even if he should have seen it coming, given their location.

"It is quite amusing to see him so suddenly shy," Flint said, laughing. "He has been nothing but brash and strong willed since setting foot on my ship. I didn't think he could be such a timid maiden. Though ye did get all blushy and tongue tied over Desiree."

Ace sputtered at being called a "timid maiden" and glared at Flint. However, he held his tongue. Flint's favorite cure for foul language was soap. Ace would rather be smacked. The soap taste would take hours to wear off and ruined the taste of everything he put in his mouth until then.

The woman chuckled at the sight of the indignant Ace. "I see what you mean. So, what can I do for you, Abrams?"

"Let's go inside to discuss business, Elisa," said Flint.

"Naturally."

They moved within the building, turning left toward the more suggestive area and away from the bar of the inn side of the business. The main room on this side was filled with cushioned seats that had no legs and rested on the ground, but Elisa led them further in, passed rooms that were occupied. While the closed doors muffled most of the noise on the other side, it couldn't block all of it. Ace recognized the moans from activities he had seen growing up in Goa Kingdom and was once again burning red. Forests only offered the illusion of privacy to amorous lovers.

They soon arrived before an open door leading to an empty room large enough for the three of them. The same cushioned seats lined the walls with a large padded futon in the center. Ropes and leathered shackles hung from the ceiling and the far wall held a rack of various crops and small whips. Ace wondered what went on in here that required all this then decided he didn't want to know and didn't want to find out.

"Will this do?" asked Elisa and gestured into the room.

"It's perfect," said Flint as he stepped into the doorframe to take in the view, he then stepped to the side to face Elisa again while Ace peered in past him. "A fine spot for a private meeting."

Ace stepped into the room before realizing that neither Flint nor Elisa had. How had he failed to notice something so important? The door slammed shut behind him causing him to hop forward in surprise. Ace stared at the closed door for a second as his mind whirled to comprehend what had just happened then he grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It was locked.

"Wha-?! Captain! What are you doing?!" cried Ace as he began pounding on the door. He remembered what Flint had threatened when he had been conscripted onto his ship and began to panic. "You said if I did what I was told you wouldn't do this to me, Captain! Captain Flint!" He heard Flint's muffled laugh and Elisa's amused voice but not what they were saying. The rooms were partially soundproof. This did not quell Ace's rising terror. He grabbed the knob again and placed both feet on either side of the frame. "FLINT! LET ME OUT!"

A knock on the door caused him to freeze. Were they about to open it up? He got down and let the knob go and the door swung out into the hall. Of course, it did. He had forgotten which way it opened. Elisa stood in the doorway; Flint was nowhere to be found. Ace froze at the sight of the elegant woman and Elisa stepped into the room, pulling the door closed and, of course, locking it behind her. Ace yelped as he heard the mechanism click back into place.

"Now," said Elisa as a delicate hand came from behind her holding a small silver key that vanished into her sleeve. "Where should we begin, Ace-chan?"

Ace stared, a million thoughts running through his head about all the ways this was going to be very bad, then threw himself at her shouting, "Give me that key!"

A moment later Ace was flying through the air and landed on the oversized futon with no shirt and no shoes. His black shorts were still on him and he grabbed them with the intent of hanging on for dear life. Elisa was still standing near the door, pipe in one hand and puffing little smoke rings into the air. His shoes were sitting by the door, upright and side-by-side as if he had taken them off upon entry into the room, and his shirt was lying across the back of one of the seats, neatly folded.

She was good.

Ace pushed himself back until he was up against the wall of pillows on the far side of the room, not the best decision if he was trying not to encourage anything, but he wanted to be as far from her as possible.

She smirked, finding his discomfort amusing. "Ace-chan, Captain Flint has asked me to remind you that you aren't supposed to call him by his name when in public. Though, he is amused that your first thought was that you were being sold, so he's willing to let it slide this time."

Ace gaped. He knew he was supposed to address Flint as Abrams when they were in port as a trade ship, and in his panic he had forgotten, which could have caused them all huge amounts of trouble, but he hadn't realized that Elisa already knew that Abrams was Flint. Lucky him… maybe.

"Your Captain felt bad about a little incident that occurred two months ago. He believed you were doing a fine job in moving past it and brought you here as both a way to make amends for it and to reward you for being a good sport about the whole thing," continued Elisa. "This is truly exceptional. Captain Flint never admits to a discipline mistake."

Ace didn't know what to think about this. This was Flint's way of saying, "I'm sorry about Willis and thanks for not holding a grudge"?! Well he wasn't being sold to be a male prostitute, so that was a relief but… "What's Flint's plan for me?" asked Ace almost afraid to know the answer.

Elisa puffed another ring. "Why I'm supposed to help you to relax. You seem to be quite special to him. He's already paid for the whole night! Oh, and you're not allowed out of this room until he returns."

Ace felt his fear melt away into annoyance. "So, you're my babysitter?"

"I suppose you could look at it like that," she replied with a chuckle.

Ace sighed and slid down the pillows in a pout. "I guess this is better than swabbing the deck or staring at books all night long."

"I imagine it will be," said Elisa and she strode toward him. "So… how shall we begin, Ace-chan?" She stretched out on the futon next to him then reached across to turn his face to look at her. Ace resumed his scarlet shade and sat up straight.

"Wait just a second! I…" Ace stared down at Elisa. This close he noticed a few things he couldn't have seen without being close due to her choice of makeup and clothes. A flat chest and distinct Adam's apple. Ace looked back up at Elisa's amused face and squeaked, "You're a guy?!"

Elisa smirked and said in a pitch perfect low tenor, "Is that a problem, Ace-chan?"

Ace squawked a few unintelligible words as he tried to rearrange his thinking with this new twist on reality. He didn't really have a problem with gay men. Jaeger and Austin were open lovers and any crew who had a problem with it usually found themselves on Jaeger's bad side in a hurry. Since he enforced discipline on the ship a person who irked him could find themselves not getting the slack for mistakes like others would.

What had Ace squeaking like a child's toy was the shock that a man could look that good as a woman and the fact that Elisa wanted to do it with him. Ace was certain he was not gay and any chance he might have been okay with this had been killed by the lustful eyes of the crew. Still why did he have to be such a damn fine-looking woman?

"Does Flint know about this?" Ace managed to say at last, with voice cracking like an adolescent.

Elisa smiled and took another puff of the pipe, blowing the ring at Ace's face. The smoke smelled of apples and cinnamon with only the faintest hint of tobacco. It was actually a nice scent, but Ace was too wound up to not recoil from it, like an unwanted blown kiss that had substance.

"Of course, he does," replied Elisa. "He's prefers men."

And the comment from earlier made so much more sense and put more behaviors in perspective. The "pet" comments from the crew. Quillan's general annoyance with him for being a distraction to their captain. Was Flint grooming him to be a lover? Was this really a "break Ace in to better please Flint" thing? Was everything he said before about Ace going on to become Captain a lie to make him more agreeable? Or did Flint mean it and he just expected payment? Flint had made enough passes at him with his touches and whispered words when Ace wasn't careful with his.

"Does Flint prefer transvestites?" asked Ace as he inched away from Elisa. If Flint preferred men in dresses, then Ace would just make sure to never allow himself to be wear one. No need to encourage further boundary violations from the captain.

"Oh no! I dress and speak this way and use the name Elisa as a form of discretion for my clients. I serve both gay men and women. My name is actually Elijah and I do not see myself as a woman, it's just an act for the benefit of my clients. Gay sailors and even female sailors find they get less grief if they are seen being entertained by a female prostitute rather than a male prostitute. Flint very much likes his man flesh. I always have to change before tending to him, he insists that I look like a fellow sailor before he will loosen up enough to enjoy the night. You're actually just his type, if a little under ripe."

This was not what Ace wanted to hear. He stared at Elijah for a moment then leapt for the door, forgetting that Elijah had the key. He began fighting with the knob and pulling on the door, forgetting again that it swung out not in.

"No way! I am not his stand-by booty call! I don't do guys! I don't even like guys in that way!" shouted Ace.

Elijah rose and walked over to him. He enfolded his arms around Ace and said, "How would you even know for sure? You're still cherry, aren't you?"

Before Ace could say anything, he was back on the futon and his black shorts were now lying next to his shirt on the seat. All he had left was his flame patterned boxers to protect his dignity. Elijah grinned and took another puff of his pipe. He still looked the part of an elegant woman, not one hair out of place, makeup smeared, or fold of fabric slipped. This guy was really good.

"Well this night is about exploration," said Elijah. Ace wished Elijah would go back to his contralto. It would be less jarring for Ace. Elijah retrieved the key from his sleeve and unlocked the door. It opened and revealed another prostitute that appeared to be about Ace's age, maybe a little older. Her long lavender hair was tied up in a similar style to Elijah's. Golden eyes peered from a tanned face and she wore a soft yellow kimono with pink flowers and pale blue birds patterned across it. She held a tray with teacups, kettle and little tea cakes.

"This is Samantha and she is very female," said Elijah.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," said Samantha inclining her head while keeping the tray before her level. "I ask you to forgive my clumsiness in advance."

"She is still in training so this will be educational for the both of you," explained Elijah as he closed the door and locked it again. "So please be a cooperative partner."

"Eh… Eh… Ehh…!" Ace couldn't get a single word passed his lips.

"This is my work around," said Elijah, though Ace hadn't asked about the additional prostitute. Samantha set the tray down on a short table near the futon then sat down on the futon's edge near Ace. "Flint paid for _my_ services, but you are uncomfortable with me. I can't bring another fully trained woman to service one of my clients so instead I'll bring in this trainee, who is in need of more experience before she can begin to work her own clients. Since we have the whole night, and you are uncertain of what you actually like, this will be the perfect situation for her to practice her various techniques."

Ace flicked his gaze between the two, feeling trapped. Even if he managed to force his way out, he was certain Flint would just haul him back to face the house's penalties for causing a ruckus on the premises. He wasn't sure what that might entail, his eyes flickered to the whips on the wall near the futon, but he was certain he wouldn't like it. Maybe it would involve paying Elijah just so Flint could have a room to make Ace properly appreciative. The idea of Flint pushing him down made Ace just a tad nauseous.

"Are you well, Ace-sama?" asked Samantha bringing Ace's attention back to the present. She was leaning close to him, her faint perfume a gentle kiss to his nose rather than the slap in the face so many women preferred.

"Uh… Ba-uh… Fine!" he squeaked and instantly bit his lip, resuming his brilliant shade of red that he had been glowing for majority of the time since Elijah entered the room.

"Be gentle, Samantha," said Elijah. "Remember how it was your first time."

"Oh! I am honored to be chosen to be your first, Ace-sama. I assure you I will handle you most gently."

Ace thought that might actually be worse.

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The opinions of the characters does not reflect the opinions of the author. Please do not flame me.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	41. Just a Taste

**TRIGGER WARNING**: The following chapter contains a sexual assault event. While the assault is stopped, some readers may find the lead up disturbing or triggering. Reader Discretion is advised.

Chapter 41: Just A Taste

"They put something in that tea, I just know it," muttered Ace as he walked beside Flint back to the ship. The early morning sun was an insult to Ace's weary eyes as he trudged along, his captain seeming to be racing ahead of him despite his bum leg and clicking cane.

"A necessary evil considering how uptight ye were when I left ye," said Flint. He glanced over his shoulder. "Stop dragging yer feet, lad. We're shipping out as soon as we return."

"Of course we are," said Ace with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

Flint stopped and turned to regard Ace. "Are ye tired?"

Ace stopped as well and gave Flint an annoyed look but refrained from saying anything since he couldn't trust what he would say to the man.

A slow grin spread across Flint's face and he began to chuckle. "Ye _are_ tired. Ye didnae sleep at all."

Ace couldn't fathom why this was amusing Flint. Yes, he was tired. All he wanted to do was crawl into his hammock on the ship and sleep until tomorrow but that wasn't going to happen. He would have to help prep the ship for departure and, once they were at sea, his usual list of chores, swabbing the deck, checking the extra sails for rips and mending them, cleaning the toilet (couldn't those bastards at least _aim_!), training sessions with Rasputan and navigation lessons with Flint, though the latter two would probably wait until they were well out to sea. Considering how tired he was, he hoped there wasn't much mending involved, he was certain he was going to stick himself every other stitch.

"Oh, to be young and full of vitality and stamina," said Flint as he turned away, still chuckling.

Ace finally understood what was amusing Flint and felt the heat rising in his cheeks. "You stuck me there for the whole night!"

"Just to keep yer trouble-making ass contained," responded Flint. "I half expected ye'd fall asleep after a few hours. For ye to have kept Elisa entertained the entire night-"

Ace pulled in front of Flint and snapped in a low voice since they were still in a public area and he didn't want to be entertainment for the entire pier. "I did _not_ entertain Elisa! I am in no way interested in _that_!"

"Well _that_ is a rather rude way to put it," said Flint in a chastising tone, giving Ace a small cuff. Ace hissed, flicked his eyes around the crowded pier then pressed his lips together in a frown. "Oh, discretion! Ye really think before ye open yer mouth." Flint patted Ace on the shoulder and resumed walking.

"I did not enjoy being the plaything for a trainee," hissed Ace as he struggled to keep pace without knocking people over. Flint could really move when he wanted to, expertly avoiding the other sailors as he did. There also seemed to be an odd spring to his step.

"I'm sure ye didnae," said Flint in a tone that suggested the opposite was true.

Ace realized that his complaining had been feeding Flint information about his night. Something Ace didn't want to do as it might start encouraging other activities that he didn't want to participate in. Elijah had informed him that he was Flint's type. That reminded him…

"I am going to say this now," said Ace as they turned down the dock that led to their ship. "I am in no way your playboy, now or ever!"

Flint stopped and swung an arm around hooking it around Ace's neck and forcing him to be noise to noise with the middle-aged Captain. "Really, Ace. I am the captain and ye are a mere cabin boy. Ye dinnae have that say while on my ship."

Ace's eyes widened as he realized he had once again overstepped his bounds and caught Flint's ire. Damn his exhausted brain! Damn Elijah and Samantha! Just… Damn everything! He said nothing, fearful of the consequences should he try to stand his ground. Every time he had before Flint had beaten him down. If Ace pushed back too hard on this Flint might just be inspired to do the one thing Ace didn't want him to do, just to prove he could.

Flint held the young man's gaze a moment more than kissed him. Not a light, chaste kiss, but a deep, passionate one. Ace froze. A minute earlier and Ace's tired self would have rashly bitten Flint's invading tongue off and punched the man for the assault, but Flint had reminded him of his fear, and he stood there unmoving. The dock was mercifully empty since only their ship was tied to it even if they were still several yards away but that may have been why Flint chose to act.

Ace wanted to fight back, even with the threat of death, but his thoughts turned to his little brother. There was still the mysterious shadowy man that would become a threat to Luffy in the future. He knew if he died now, then Luffy would die later, all because of that shadowy man's ambition.

Rasputan had assured him, back when his life hung in limbo after the fiasco with Syren, that Flint had put too much work into Ace to kill him. He still had almost died then because of Flint's temper. Then there was the mutiny. Yes, Flint had gone out of his way to not shoot Ace when Ace had attacked him, but still Ace had been trussed up with the other accused mutineers awaiting execution right before then. Des Moor had been too close for comfort. Was he really immune to Flint's killer instincts? Not if Ace misjudged what Flint valued in him.

Ace held still, trying to endure Flint's molestation. He had to live. He had to live to protect Luffy if nothing else. He was going to live, to stop the shadowy man, to get Aaron's pendant back to his family and rise to fame. He would not die anonymous. He would not vanish!

Flint pulled back but Ace didn't dare open his eyes to look at him. He just waited for whatever else Flint planned to do with him. Flint's stroked Ace's cheek with his thumb and said, "Ye shouldn't whimper, Ace. It doesn't become ye."

Ace's eyes flew open in shock. "I didn't whimper!" he hissed. He hadn't, had he? He wasn't sure. His mind had been adrift, but he was certain he hadn't done something pathetic like whimper. Flint's emerald gaze was unreadable.

He stroked Ace's cheek again and said, "I do wonder sometimes how I can keep my hands to myself when it concerns ye. Ye are sweet."

Ace looked away so the humiliation he felt wouldn't show too much. He didn't think he could hide it, but he had to try, for the sake of his failing pride.

Flint leaned close and whispered in Ace's ear, "I suggest ye dinnae wear any type of uniform for any reason while aboard my ship, lad. Seeing ye in a three-piece suit with that immaculate white jacket of justice might just cause me to lose whatever self-control I have. Especially now that I've had a taste of ye."

Ace blanched and squeaked, "Marines turn you on?"

Flint pulled back and grinned at him but didn't confirm or deny Ace's observation. Ace suddenly had a great deal of insight into how Flint could be so relaxed while talking to Marines. He was attracted to them. Ace couldn't understand how an infamous pirate could be attracted to the people who desired nothing more than his death. Then again, Flint and death seemed to work as partners the way he ran things so maybe it wasn't that disturbing. Ace's thoughts turned to the way his captain had chatted with Garp and he crushed it without mercy. There was no way he was going to even consider that possibility, even if it was likely true, otherwise he might not ever sleep again.

Ace followed after Flint without another word and didn't dare walk even with him. He was not going to invite another round of "tasting". He feared if Flint kissed him again any time in the near future, Ace would end up in his bed no matter what he was wearing. Even cross-dressing wouldn't save him. Flint wanted him, that much was clear, and he had probably been disappointed to learn that Ace was very straight.

They arrived at the bottom of the gangplank onto their ship. The crew were already there and loading the last of the cargo onto her. They would not be pleased that Ace had missed out on that even if he had been with Flint. The captain marched up the gangplank barking orders to prep the ship for departure. Ace hesitated.

Flint was giving Ace one-on-one lessons in navigation and chart reading... In his cabin… With the door shut so no one could eavesdrop. Ace sniffed his shirt discreetly as a thought came to him. The faint whiff of apple and cinnamon clung to the cloth. Elijah's tobacco scent. Elijah was Flint's whore of choice in this port. That smell was associate with certain hot and sweaty activities for the captain.

Ace frowned in worry. He stank of last night's activity and that probably had excited his captain. Between Ace's unwise complaints and the scents clinging to him being added to Flint's apparent attraction to the young man, Ace could see why his captain had become less restrained. He needed to wash up and change clothes before he was left alone with Flint for any amount of time. Flint also needed time to cool his head after that kiss.

Since bathing wouldn't happen until they were well out to sea, which meant probably tonight or even as late as tomorrow, Ace needed to find a way to steer clear of the man until he was clean and Flint less aroused. That would be tricky since Flint could call him off any chore he was doing to demand he work on his studies. There were exceptions to that, though…

Ace ran over to the bosun. "Jaeger!" he hissed as he approached the man.

"Nice of you to show up, Ace. We've just finished loading the cargo, so-" Jaeger said as he glared at Ace.

"Jaeger, give me something to do! Something that Flint won't naysay. Something that will keep me out of his sight for the next day or so until he calms down," pleaded Ace with hands clasped together.

Jaeger stared in surprise at the unexpected request. "What did you do?" the bosun asked concerned and wondering if he should really be hiding Ace from his captain.

"Flint made his favorite whore babysit me last night and now I smell like her," said Ace. He left the pronouns female. He didn't want to have to go into details about last night. Jaeger may be gay, but Ace didn't know if the bosun knew their captain was.

Jaeger stood in silence for a moment, taken by surprise again, then leaned forward and took a delicate sniff. Ace retrained his reaction to the violation of his personal space, reminding himself that Jaeger was in a committed relationship and not interested in him. He was just determining the truth of Ace's statement.

Jaeger snorted and said, "Yup, you smell like her. Have fun?"

Ace gave Jaeger his "I will kill you" face before he schooled his expression into mild annoyance.

Jaeger grinned and said, "Okay, I get it. Definitely not a good time to be alone with the captain. Scottie could always use a fresh pair of eyes." Jaeger paused and leaned in again to study Ace's face. "Hmm, though, you don't seem that fresh. Did you even sleep?"

Ace said nothing but his expression must have said something because Jaeger gave a long low whistle. Ace couldn't keep the blush from his cheeks, but he continued to keep his mouth closed.

"Okay, finish loading and organizing the cargo. Prep the furnace room and make it ready for drying, we don't want ash on our clean clothes. Then lose yourself in the laundry. Take advantage of all that soup and water to switch clothes and get the worst of the grime off you. Once everything is hanging in the furnace room it should be time for a hose down. Got it?"

"Are you sure that will work? The captain took me off laundry…"

"Jason has kitchen duty, and everyone is in need of fresh underwear," replied Jaeger with a smirk.

Ace didn't question it further. "You're a lifesaver," he said and turned to get started on his tasks.

Jaeger chuckled then said in all seriousness. "You got second watch tonight, though." Ace raised a hand in acknowledgment. First watch would have meant that Ace wouldn't get to sleep until after midnight but second meant he would only get a few hours of sleep before he had to take the midnight to dawn rotation. It was harder for the men to deal with second watch since it interrupted their sleep instead of delaying it. Ace considered it a kindness. With the midnight watch, he could get a few hours of sleep after dinner.

Ace used to rise almost as early to complete his chores not too long ago. He was still adjusting to the new schedule Flint had established for him, where he stayed up late to study the stars. He hoped Flint was too busy going over the cargo Quillan had acquired as well as the plan to steal the Eye of Erousha to want to do a lesson tonight. Or that the bosun explained things to their captain. If that were the case, he only had one problem to be careful of.

Not falling asleep in the wash tub.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I can hear Rasputan giving Flint another earful about teasing Ace already.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	42. Akainu

Chapter 42: Akainu

They had known the Eye of Erousha was a grand prize and Marine scrutiny in East Blue would rise to dangerous levels once they took it. Flint just hadn't expected the speed nor the person who would come representing that heat. The pirate Captain swallowed hard when he saw who was going to be boarding his ship.

It was one of the three Admirals of the Marines and it was the worst one. Akainu. The man bore the power of the Lava Lava Fruit and could become the heart of a raging volcano with little warning. He was also unreasonable. He was so devoted to the cause of justice that he would murder whole towns if it meant destroying one criminal. He had done as much at Ohara without a trace of remorse. He was also merciless to his own people. If any were found wanting in terms of courage or threatened to discredit the Marines with their actions, no matter the reason, he would annihilate them. In a sense he was a lot like Flint. In another sense he was worse. Flint at least knew what he did was reprehensible. Akainu honestly believed his actions represented justice just because it was done for the cause of eliminating evil.

Flint doubted Akainu had the wits to see through his charade. It was the attitude that he was entitled to do anything so long as he waved the flag of justice over it that worried the captain. Akainu had shown time and time again that he had little respect for the laws he was supposed to uphold if he thought they stood between him and a wanted criminal. He may start tearing the ship apart, even without cause, in direct violation of the Trade Accords if he decided it was hiding something.

All Flint could do was stay polite and respectful and hope Akainu didn't feel inspired. He touched the Den Den Mushi Garp had given him within his inner pocket. Flint had spun quite the yarn when he had been speaking with the old Vice-Admiral and it had ended with this gift.

Somehow the subject of the conversation then had turned to Ace. Garp had wanted to know if Abrams had heard anything about the young man, whom had run away from home months ago. Flint had been all sympathy spinning a tail of having to take on a troublesome nephew who wanted to be a pirate in order to teach him to be a productive citizen of the world. He had even expressed concern about Ace's wellbeing, mentioning Flint's current presence in the East Blue. Garp had become very distressed about that.

When the conversation ended, Flint promising he would keep a lookout for Garp's wayward grandson, Garp had handed Flint the Den Den Mushi in case he found him.

"If you could hold him for a bit and contact me, I would really appreciate it," said the old Vice-Admiral. Flint almost felt bad for the deception.

Now he feared he would have to contact Garp for a very different reason. He had a policy of never throwing away gifts such as these, even if it seemed he would never use them. That policy may just be about to pay dividends. He hoped Garp was accessible, wherever he was, should Akainu prove troublesome.

Akainu was every inch disreputable as the rumors suggested. He stormed onto the ship as soon as the two were linked and shoved Flint, nearly taking the captain off his feet. When Flint played the role of Abrams, he always overemphasized his crippled leg. Marines relaxed when they thought the captain was "harmless". Not Akainu. Instead, his behavior smacked of bully tactics where he acted in this fashion because he thought Flint was weak.

"Speak now!" bellowed Akainu once he was on the main deck, his back to Flint, who hobbled over to him after recovering his balance. If Flint needed any more proof that Akainu had no idea who he was, his exposed back provided it.

"I know you tradesmen types are all the same. You'll pirate when it's convenient and talk it out with others in taverns. Speak now on where the Eye of Erousha is, or I'll tear this ship apart."

Not what Flint wanted to hear. He stepped up to Akainu's left but didn't get in front of the man. He feared a fight might be inevitable, so he had rather be in position to kill the man straight away. Akainu had come alone, no second ship like Desiree, probably under the assumption he was strong enough to handle anything on his own. The men present were only the amount that his rank dictated must be in attendance not what he needed to guard his person.

"With all due respect, Admiral," said Flint, still playing the role of Abrams. His haki inverted to conceal the measure of his true strength. Akainu didn't seem to be proficient with observational haki, or any haki, but it was not worth it to test that theory.

"This ship is engaged in lawful trade and beholden to the Duchy of Kels," he continued. "The Trade Accords signed by numerous nations of the World Government forbid the manhandling of their ships without proper evidence of law breaking. Yer suspicions aren't evidence."

If there was a way to talk this man down, Flint would prefer it. He slid a hand behind him as he bent as if his back were bad. He was checking the position of his sea prism dagger that he kept sheathed in the small of his back. The little thing was scarcely bigger than his palm and had no guard. When no one reacted to his action, he grew confident he could draw it without anyone noticing. He just had to stay within reach.

The problem with inverting his haki was that it shorted out armament haki, the only thing that could harm a logia Devil Fruit user. Without armament haki, Flint needed to use his sea prism dagger to inflict damage and weaken the other man. However, with a man like Akainu, mere damage was not in his best interest. Flint would need to strike to kill, should it come to that.

Akainu whirled and jabbed Flint's chest with a large finger. "Those Trade Accords are nothing but a means to aid pirating. I will not be dissuaded from my duties as a Marine to stamp out evil. Those laws serve no purpose but to aid evil and so I don't acknowledge their worth."

_They exist so tyrants like ye dinnae destroy the trade and wealth of the World Government_, thought Flint but didn't say it out loud. They were on thin ice. One wrong word and Akainu would destroy the ship.

"Now I know someone here has to know of the Eye of Erousha," said Akainu as he once again exposed his back to Flint.

"The World News reported that Flint made off with it," stated Flint. It was tempting to stab Akainu now, but that dagger felt so small compared to Akainu's broad torso. He would have to aim for the jugular or the spot where the spine connected to his skull. If he missed….

"Someone here has been talking. Someone here knows things about Flint. If you tradesmen would just give up your secrets instead of hoarding them, we would have caught that bastard years ago," stated Akainu as he strode forward again.

_Oh no, ye widnae have, nugget_, thought Flint as he followed after.

Flint didn't know what made Akainu suddenly zero in on Ace. It could have been more bully tactics, he focused on what appeared to be the weakest member of the crew in a belief the crew would become rattled at the assault. Or if Ace's too honest face had given a clue. Whichever didn't matter because Akainu reached out and grabbed the young man by his neck and raised him above the deck. Ace kicked and punched in a futile attempt to free himself from the man.

"Ace!" cried Flint, only half acting. The other crewmen became alarmed for various reasons. Rasputan's face darkened and Flint felt his bloodlust rise. Akainu remained oblivious, the other Marines were not. Their hands began to drift toward weapons as they gave the Cossack more space.

"Tell me now what you know!" demanded Akainu. Lava beads began to form on the back of his hand. A clear threat. Ace could feel the heat from them and doubled his efforts. His eyes were wild with terror as the temperature continued to rise near his face.

Flint reached for the dagger. "Put the lad down! Ye dishonor the Marines with these actions!" he shouted. Several Marines looked on horrified, their concern over Rasputan forgotten, but too frightened of their Admiral to stop him. Flint didn't blame them.

Akainu didn't even look at Flint who was standing directly behind him. Flint pulled the dagger an inch, ready to attack and to hell with the consequences, when Ace met his eyes and mouth, "Captain! Help me!"

It could have been the trigger to spur Flint to drive the dagger into Akainu's skull and launch a ship wide melee. It should have been, as a burst of fatherly protectiveness exploded within his chest, driving him to save the young man from the deranged Admiral. Instead, it was a bucket of ice water on him. The words were nearly the same as the one shouted the day Garp had boarded their ship.

Ace, back then, had leapt for the railing screaming, _"Jiijii! Help me!"_ before he was grabbed and dragged below into the lower hold. Hidden from the Marines, from Garp.

The coldness in his mind allowed a single thought to surface. The Den Den Mushi Garp had gifted him. In his fury he had forgotten about it even though he had in his pocket just for this reason.

Flint released the dagger and grabbed the Den Den Mushi. Bringing it out, he activated it, hoping against hope it would get through before Akainu realized what he was doing. He wouldn't put it past the Marine to destroy it just because it was there.

"Garp here," came the pleasant greeting within one ring.

"Vice-Admiral, this is Abrams. That deranged Admiral, Akainu, is on my ship and he is currently assaulting my nephew demanding information I can't possibly have!" shouted Flint, letting himself feel the panic and desperation, knowing it would be heard in his voice through the Den Den Mushi.

Akainu whipped around, the lava beads disappearing as he lost focus.

"WHAT?!" roared Garp from the tiny snail. Akainu looked like he had just bitten something bitter. Akainu may be an admiral but Garp was the Hero of the Marines who only remained a vice-admiral by his own choice. The old hero had far more clout than the admiral did.

Flint felt himself calming and fought the urge to smirk. Control had returned to him.

"What the hell are you doing, Sakazuki?" Garp continued bellowing.

"Upholding justice!" snapped Akainu.

"Upholding justice does not involve terrorizing helpless cabin boys on harmless trade ships!" barked Garp.

"I reminded him that this was a violation of the Trade Accords and he said, 'Those Trade Accords are nothing but a means to aid pirating. Those laws serve no purpose but to aid evil and so I dinnae acknowledge their worth.'" Flint paused for effect then added. "I dinnae think the Duchy of Kels would appreciate hearing such sentiment."

_Neither would the other trade nations_, thought Flint, but he didn't add that. Since the bulk of the World Government's income was derived from the flow of goods across the sea, disrupting it was not in the best interest of anyone. Truth be told such disruptions would do more than put the World Government into a financial crisis, it could very well touch off a war. In fact, it almost had in the past. The Trade Accords had been established early in the World Government's development precisely because of that fact. Something the tyrannical admiral would know if he had bothered to study history.

A new voice came over the Den Den Mushi. "Admiral Akainu, remove yourself from that ship and return to headquarters. I wish to speak with you on this matter in private."

Was that the Fleet Admiral Sengoku? Flint was in awe that he managed to catch Garp while he was pestering the head of the Marines. Akainu's face contorted into barely contained rage. Ace started kicking madly, his face twisting in pain, his mouth wide in a silent scream. Akainu was crushing his throat.

"Ye're hurting my nephew, Admiral," stated Flint in a low voice that still carried well in the pin-drop silence that had descended on the ship.

"Admiral Akainu!" growled Sengoku in warning. Akainu dropped Ace. Ace crumpled onto the deck, holding his discolored throat. He coughed and wheezed, sucking air into deprived lungs through a throat that was threatening to swell shut. Quarken was at his side a heartbeat later along with another crewman. They dragged Ace out of reach of the homicidal Marine before Quarken began treating the lad's injuries.

Admiral Akainu glared at Flint who met his gaze unflinching. The man was embarrassed to be chastised by his superior in front of those he considered to be rogues. Akainu didn't like being embarrassed, but he couldn't do anything about it at the moment. He had his orders.

"I think yer business here is done," said Flint, his voice still low. No Marines dared to move before their Admiral, they had to work with him after all. Akainu stared, his eyebrow twitching. He seemed contemplating melting Flint with his lava.

Flint, with the Den Den Mushi still receiving, made one last critical jab. "It willnae do yer career any good if East Blue joins West Blue in banning ye from their waters."

Akainu jerked his head like he had been slapped. West Blue had not taken well to the destruction of Ohara and, even less, the needless death of its innocent citizens. Riots had broken out and several prominent nations had threatened to separate from the World Government. It had taken years of negotiations to try to smooth things over and in that time much of the tribute from that sea had been withheld hurting the World Government and the Marines.

There had been demands for Akainu to be brought to justice for killing the innocent citizens when the rest of his cohorts had worked to remove them from the island during the buster call. The Gorosei themselves denied West Blue their want but conceded that, should Akainu entered West Blue again, they would not interfere with their decision to bring him to justice. The multi-year standoff ended with West Blue not having to pay any back-taxes for the missed years but remaining in the World Government. Akainu was effectively banned from West Blue under pain of death. Altear, the most influential nation in the West Blue, had tried him in absenteeism and found him guilty of mass murder.

Only those that had been following the blistering news reports of that tumultuous time period knew of this and Flint was old enough to have been following it. Flint had been in West Blue when Ohara was destroyed and vacated it after relieving the World Government of Ohara's treasure that they had been bringing back to Marie Jois, the contents of the Great Library the Scholars had given their lives to save from the burning tree. He wasn't present in the ocean during the theatrics that followed, so hadn't had a front row seat to the political war that had launched. He had been pleased the World Government had been too busy trying to appease the nations of West Blue to censor the newspaper like they ordinarily would have. He enjoyed watching the elites squirm as one of their selfish orders nearly caused their instant destruction.

"Now, Captain Abrams, can we discuss this first?" asked Sengoku, sounding disturbed. He had good reason to be. If Flint reported this incident to the Duchy of Kels, it could touch off another political scandal.

"Only after the good admiral is a distant shadow on the horizon," replied Flint.

Akainu growled but Sengoku barked out a warning and the admiral, finally, stormed off the ship. His subordinates, looking relieved, followed after him.

It took another ten minutes of discussing the situation with Sengoku before, Flint conceded to soften the tone of his report to the Duchy of Kels. All trade ships had to report Marine inspections to their respective countries to make sure the Marines weren't violating the term of the Accords. The softening of the report would keep it from being flagged and sent up the chain to outrage influential heads without actually lying about what happened.

When he was done, he threw the Den Den Mushi overboard. There would be no second use for it.

"Well we knew this already but, once our business in Desoro is complete, we leave for Angelina. So, settle yer vices while ye're there," Flint declared. The grunts looked confused, none of them had ever been to Angelina nor even heard of it but the officers looked relieved. They understood. It was time to leave East Blue.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I like to imagine that not everyone blindly accepted the World Government's reasoning behind Ohara's destruction. Given how old the Tree of Knowledge was and it would be considered a world treasure.

So for Fire Prince, and my personal headcannon, there was significant blowback over Ohara's destruction.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	43. The Black-Market Dealer

Chapter 43: The Black-Market Dealer

"Stick close, lad, I dinnae want ye getting lost now," said Flint as he, Quillan and Ace walked off the Maiden's Sorrow and onto the pier of Desoro. It was the first port they had visited after Ace had been forced to join. Ace had been left shackled on the ship then. Now, nearly eight months later, he was being allowed to come ashore here. Albeit he had to stay within sight of Flint for the entire outing. Not that Ace wouldn't have returned to the ship if he had been allowed to venture out.

In the last eight months he had learned the type of ports Flint would visit. This one held the shipwright that did the major repairs for the lawless ships. One glance at the bay told the story. Dead Marines hung from pillars near the entrance with the same warning that some ports had paired with their hung pirates. This place was marauder central for the entire East Blue and was well defended with the high cliffs guarding the entrance. Anyone that was suspected of working for the government suffered the same fate as those hanging in the bay. Otherwise there was only one rule, don't cause trouble. Of course, the type of trouble the port "officials" considered trouble was loosely defined. A few tavern brawls never aroused anyone's suspicion but cheat a man on a deal? The bottom of the bay would become that fool's new home.

Ace reluctantly accepted that Flint shackling him to the ship his first visit had been necessary to keep him safe. Nothing Flint would have said then would have convinced Ace that jumping ship at this port was a bad idea. Ace would have ended up in worse circumstance if he had fled the ship.

Flint never dealt in slaves, because slaves can talk and they would have revealed his secrets on the chance of buying their freedom, but many pirates that entered the port did. Those not part of a ship's crew were either masters or slaves. This was not a town to start a voyage. If Ace ran around this place with no money, no ship and no Captain to vouch for him he would have ended up in the town's slave market as one of their products. It took only a few hours of observation from the deck to realize this truth, but if Ace hadn't been shackled, he would not have taken the time to do so before he got himself tossed in the slave pen in the central market.

Everyone here had a mark to declare they were already owned. Flint didn't use tattoos like the other pirates or brands like the slave owners, since that would betray his secrets to inspectors. He used earrings. The stud had been soldered into his ear on the second day, but he hadn't been given his own pirate loop until last month. It now hung from his ear, a beautiful work of rose and silver gold that married his spade symbol with Flint's sword-in-the-skull. The sword-in-the-skull was all Ace needed to keep him from being snatched off the street and sold should he part company with Flint.

The ship had pulled into a shipyard on this visit, hence the comment. A month ago, when they had been given the task of stealing the Eye of Erousha, the ship had docked at one of the regular piers. The shipyard was off to the far side of the bay and numerous residencies lay between it and the regular market. The streets were purposely made to seem maze-like in case of intruders or troublemakers. Only the residents knew their way around, visitors had to stick to the main road that was marked only by its broad nature and turned and twisted as much as the residential roads.

The shipyard was set up so each repair lot was surrounded by high walls for privacy. The Master of the Yard believed in protecting the confidentiality of his customers. No one was allowed to enter any yard their ship wasn't in. This prevented sabotage by rival pirates and the temptation to cause a brawl in the repair yard. The Master of the Yard would never break his silence about any customer of his, past or present. He was the ideal shipwright for all pirate ships.

While Flint had been keeping Ace from being alone on the ship with the crew since he started learning navigation, he wasn't along because of that or for strictly educational purposes. This time he was working. Flint had Ace carrying a small chest, loot from the plundered ship. This was the place where all plundered items of rare and very identifiable features were brought. Anywhere else there was too much risk to the pawn dealer of being found out and shut down when it came to these world class items but here they could be sold under the table and vanish into the private collections of the elite and wealthy.

This particular item they had absconded with had come from a royal ship. Flint ordinarily wouldn't hit such a tender target as it usually brought a host of Marines into an area. Flint would have a harder time dealing with the extra scrutiny but sometimes the payout was too tempting. In this case there was a buyer willing to pay top dollar for this particular item already waiting. It had been a request.

Flint had already been discussing leaving East Blue. His four years here had already brought increased attention to this part of the globe. The number of Marine encounters were increasing and the run in with Garp had been the final motivator. If they were getting top ranked Marines out to search ships, then it was time to go. So, Flint was cashing out his haul, so to speak. Making a few last high stakes grabs, exchanging them for gold and supplies before bailing on East Blue.

As he said to Ace by way of explaining, "I like to set the ocean ablaze when I leave as something to remember me by."

The admiral, Akainu, had been a scary, unexpected encounter to have come upon them. Flint hadn't thought they would get such a dangerous man so soon after the raid. There was no turning back now. They were leaving East Blue.

The shift in territory would involve a stretch of inactivity at Flint's central base, a place that he could vanish completely off the face of the map for an extended period of time. Flint had said as much when he ordered the men to enjoy themselves fully while they were in port.

Shifting territory would also require them to get the ship in its best shape ever. If he was going to be moving to a different sea it probably was going to take a while to establish where he would need to go to get his ship fixed or at least reestablish any rapport he had with a previous Master of the Yard in the other seas.

Once the three were clear of the residential area, the business side of the town took over with little fanfare and much abruptness. As they walked down the street Ace ignored the calls of the whores marketing their services from the doors of their brothels. Avoided looking into the cages of the slave market they passed and the weeping victims within.

It wasn't that he didn't feel for them, he believed in freedom as something that must be pursued, and slavery turned his stomach. He just couldn't do anything to save them and would only end up joining them if he tried. Besides, he was effectively a slave himself, a slave to Flint. While Flint coddled him, as much as could be expected on such a ship, and even gave him special training, he was still not allowed to leave and was forced to do whatever Flint ordered him to under threat of violence. His plight was little different from theirs even if the appearance of their places were different.

They soon arrived at the pawn shop where the dealer was waiting for the item they had. And there was trouble from the moment they sat down with the man.

"The buyer has pulled out of the arrangement, I'm afraid," said the dealer. He didn't look the least bit apologetic.

Flint raised an eyebrow. "Do explain, Marley."

"It's just as I said, the buyer has rescinded the offer," replied the dealer with a shrug. Ace wondered at the man's guts in defying Flint because he doubted anyone that was actually as stupid as he was acting at that moment would survive very long in this town. "I can't pay the original price, but I can still take it off your hands."

With that Flint didn't have any ability to complain to the town's head, the Kingpin, that ran the entire island and its criminal activity. Working through a dealer protected buyers from angry pirates if they wanted to back out. However, the buyer would be blacklisted for several years no matter how much money they had. A dealer's only obligation in these circumstances was to offer the procurer of an item a settlement if they actually acquired the item prior to being informed of the buyer's change of heart. This way there was no double-cross. It just wasn't going to be as much as they would have gotten if the buyer hadn't backed out. Flint could either accept the settlement or…

Flint leaned forward and gripped the chest, sliding it toward Ace. "The Eye of Erousha is not something to be offered for a fist full of beries. Least of all if the buyer suddenly has a second change of heart." The dealer growled and Flint smiled. He had just accused Marley of a backdoor double-deal. Impossible to prove to the Kingpin but not outside the realm of possibility. Since it was a possibility, the dealer couldn't whine to the Kingpin in turn about Flint's accusation. They were both playing with the loopholes in this pirate town's code, but the dealer wasn't going to be getting anything out of it while Flint could handle hanging onto the item for a bit longer. It wasn't like he needed to unload it, not when he had the lower hold and numerous other cubbies aboard his ship. The dealer had been depending on the item's heat to make Flint accept the lowered price. He didn't understand Flint at all.

"Good day to ye, Marley," said Flint as he rose, still smiling. The dealer's eye twitched giving Ace the sense that Flint may not have been wrong in his accusation. If the dealer caved now and offered the full price it would be proof that he had tried to swindle Flint. He couldn't do anything to reverse the situation without damning himself. If Flint were a man of greed, then the dealer could make the new offer without consequence. A greedy man would just be content that he had forced the original bargain. But not Flint. Flint was a man of violence and the gold was merely a means to fueling his obsessions. He could just as easily dump the Eye overboard if it proved problematic without losing sleep. He could also keep it as a trophy, proof of his absolute authority over the sea. He had made a royal ship surrender without firing a single shot.

Ace hoisted the chest onto his shoulder and followed Flint out of the pawnshop, the dealer fuming behind them. Ace felt a chill run up his spine and he paused to peer at the man. Marley's eyes were cold and angry. They looked exactly like Flint right before someone's head came off. This was a port run by cut throats, people no different than Flint, it shouldn't have been that surprising to see similar eyes in a Black-Market Dealer. However, this somehow felt like a promise of retribution rather than mere anger.

"Come, lad!" called Flint, sound irked. "We still have supplies to procure before we head back."

Ace jolted and his ill feelings fled his conscious mind. "Yes, sir!" he called as hurried to Flint's side.

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It might feel like a little bit of a rehash on the detail for Desoro, given dome of it was covered in chapter 4. However, it's been about 40 chapters since then and Ace knows a little more, plus this was one of the original chapters from last year so it had been the original info for Desoro.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	44. Ace's Kindness

Chapter 44: Ace's Kindness

Chaos had descended on Desoro. Marley had apparently spent a quite a bit of money in buying up the local thugs. Despite the Kingpin's rule of no-engagement, the Headhunter pirates were up to their collective necks in trouble and loving every minute of it. Except Ace and he was fairly confident that Jason wasn't loving it either, wherever the young man was.

Ace dashed down streets that were rapidly turning into a raging inferno. The moment the thugs jumped Flint all hell had broken loose. Flint moved too fast for the fools to strike him. Instead it was their guts spilling on the ground as they tumbled forward in two pieces. Slave workers screamed and fled the scene as more mercenaries appeared in the street to face the three. Flint knocked over a torch and the wooden shacks that passed for shops went up in seconds. The occupants fled the burning buildings creating mass confusion. Other pirate crews saw the fire, immediately assumed they were betrayed and erupted in violence. There were quite a few rival crews biting their thumbs while they were in port. Now they attacked each other with wild abandoned.

More buildings lit up and the streets filled with terrified workers and their masters. The Kingpin's Enforcers could do little to quell the riot and were jumped as soon as they tried. The pirate port for the worst of the worst was one gigantic powder keg and Marley had just struck the match that set it off. It was actually a small miracle it hadn't gone off before now.

Ace brought the small chest around to ward off a blow from one of their attackers. The chest held together for three blows before breaking apart on the fourth. Ace stumbled back as his attacker stumbled forward. He brought the heavy brass handle of the chest he had been holding down as an impromptu brass knuckle. The man went face first into the ground and didn't move. Ace's hand spasmed and he dropped the brass ring. Another attacker rushed at him and Ace brought his elbow to bear on the man's chin, knocking him back. A third dove at Ace's legs but missed wide.

Ace stared in confusion then saw the man cup his hands around something and take off running. Ace blanched as he realized what had just happened. When the chest had been broken, the Eye of Erousha had fallen to the ground. The man was trying to escape with the treasure that had started this all.

_Flint's going to murder me_, he thought as he took after the fleeing man, leaving the captain and his vice-captain behind.

"Get back here, you son of a bitch! I'm not getting killed, because your boss was too stupid to pay the price he promised Flint for that thing!" shouted Ace, pulling his staff from the strap that held it to his back.

The man only scrambled faster when he realized he was being pursued. He shot down a flaming alley and Ace kept pace, using his staff to bat away flaming debris. A little fire wasn't going to stop him from getting that jewel back, not when it was Flint he would have to face should he fail. They raced up paths through buildings and down streets until the man, tiring tripped on a chain and fell. Ace was on him a heartbeat later.

"Please let me go! The Kingpin will have my head and the heads of my family if I don't get him this jewel!" wailed the man as he tucked the jewel beneath his chest to keep Ace from grabbing it.

Ace froze. If the man had just pleaded for his own life Ace would have growled that his life was also forfeit if he lost the jewel, but the man had spoken of a family that would also die. The way this town worked; Ace didn't doubt him. Ace found himself conflicted. His family was innocent, captives of this horrible place. With the man still pinned beneath him, he looked around. Whether it was to clear his head of doubt and condemn the man and his family to save his own neck, he didn't know. And he would never know, for in that moment of moral crisis, Ace spotted a solution.

Their chase had taken them to the regular docks. A full rig ship belonging to the Komodo Pirates sat only a few yards away, quiet amidst the chaos surrounding her. Her crew having joined the fray soon after the fighting began. Ace grinned and he turned back to the man.

"Get up! I have an idea," said Ace as he pulled the man to his feet. The man looked confused but did as he was told. "See that ship!" Ace gestured toward the full rig and the man nodded, still confused. "Get your family and board that ship."

"What?!"

"Grab whoever of the workers that have a mind to leave this place forever and take them with you. I'll break open the slave cages and send them to join you. Then I'll untie the ship, once I get back, and you can sail out of here. You can sail, right?"

The man stared at Ace in wonder and nodded. "A little, it's been a long time. My parents were fishers."

"Good, that will be enough. You are to sail that ship out of here and immediately surrender to the first Marine vessel you see. Ask to speak to the Vice Admiral Garp. Tell them you fled a pirate brawl. Tell them everything about this port, every detail you can think of. Buy your safety and freedom with that information and help them rid East Blue of the Kingpin."

"What about you?" asked the man, hope daring to enter his eyes.

Ace shook his head. "Flint will give chase if I go with you. You stand a better chance if I don't."

The man blanched then offered the priceless jewel to Ace. "You could have just taken this from me. I'm dead either way. I'll take my chances that you aren't lying. It's the only path I have."

Ace smiled and took the gem, stashing it in his pocket. "Thank you, now go."

The two rushed off on their missions. Ace ran back through the town in the general direction of the slave market. The people had been taken out of the individual cages and hustled into the nearby stockade while their captors fought to keep the fire away. Ace knocked them out with swift strikes from his ironwood staff, grabbed the key to the gate and unlocked it. He opened the door to the sight of dozens of frightened people huddled in the back of the small open area.

"Follow me if you want your freedom back," said Ace. The people stared in disbelief. Ace gestured wildly for them to move. "Hurry! There's a ship!" First one, then two, then four, then finally the whole group rushed out of the pen. Ace ran over to a lit brazier and shoved it in the direction of the pen. He did that to two more and soon the whole market was ablaze. With the freed slaves were rushing to the port, Ace hurried to catch up to make sure they got to the right ship.

The worker class were running through the streets but there was purpose in their movement, and none were screaming. Word of the exodus was spreading as fast as the fire. The more people went to the ship the more people would follow. He noticed that the workers were carrying bags and small crates. They were wisely taking supplies to put on the ship even as it slowed them down.

He reached the port hoping the Komodos hadn't noticed that people were boarding their ship. Nope, they were still way down the dock trying to set fire to their hated arch-rivals the Tootsie-Roll Pirates. Ace couldn't believe that was the name of a pirate crew that actually qualified for this bloodthirsty port but apparently it was because the captain liked sweets and Chocolate Éclair Pirates was already taken.

"Is that everyone?" called Ace when he noticed no new faces were arriving at the pier. He returned his staff to his shoulder strap.

The man from earlier appeared at the railing. "All that have the courage to leave are here."

"I'll cut you loose and cover your escape. Get yourself out of here!" shouted Ace as he drew his dagger. He was supposed to only draw it when his life was in danger, but he had nothing else to cut the rope with and time was of the essence. Besides, with no blood, there would be no way for Flint to know he had used it. And what Flint didn't know wouldn't hurt Ace.

He slashed the mooring ropes as the people broke out the oars. The blue knife went through them like they weren't even there. It really was a shame to use such a blade on mere rope cutting but it was wonderful how easy it made this work. The ship pulled away from the dock as the one-time sailors guided it toward the gap, the oars rising and falling in sync. Ace watched it go wishing he was onboard but knowing it would just doom them if he were.

He shook his head then turned toward the warehouses. One of them was made of metal and, as he recalled from his last visit, was where they stored the ammunition. With a grin he pushed open the sliding steel doors. The warehouse was filled to the ceiling with barrels of gunpowder. Perfect.

He rolled the barrels down the pier leaving them scattered all over with trails of the explosive black powder tying them together. The pirates were so busy fighting each other and the Kingpin's enforcers none noticed him rushing past with the barrels. If the fire that was spreading through the town got to the barrels before he was ready he would be just as dead as everyone else at the pier, but if he was to prevent any pursuit of the stolen Komodo Pirate Ship, he needed to create enough destruction that no one would realize why it was missing. Besides the Kingpin and all these murdering, enslaving wretches deserved whatever they got out of this. Flint deserved it too, but Ace wasn't ready to die with him. He would have to spare the shipyard.

He rolled the last barrel he had away from the docks while it leaked black powder, leaving a trail for him to light. Once the barrel ran out, he kicked it aside and took out his lighter. He began clicking the bits of flint together and tiny sparks flew from the end, but none were taking. He growled in impatience and frustration.

"What are ye doing, lad?"

Ace managed to not jump out of his skin. Flint was becoming predictable in how and when he would turn up. It still didn't fail to shock him when it happened, though. Ace looked over his shoulder. Flint was there as expected… as was the entire crew. They looked bloodied and pissed… and were they missing a face or two? Oh… They were all here looking for him. Ace snapped the flint one more time without turning away from Flint and, this time, the spark took. The sparkler raced down the line of black and toward the rigged port. Ace was fairly certain they were far enough away from the first barrel, but he had been planning to run once it was lit, not stand around watching it like Flint and the rest were. Since Ace was not going to be allowed to run like he planned if they weren't leaving, he simply stood up and hoped nothing was thrown in their direction.

Everyone's expression was neutral as it vanished around the bend. Ten second later it found the first barrel. After that there was an explosion every thirty seconds with the other end of the chain starting to go off, lit by the spreading fire in that part of the pier. The image of masts waving above the roofs of the dockside warehouses, some toppling over, others become great trees of flame. Men screamed in the distance as the explosions tore them apart.

Ace forced himself to listen when he rather have covered his ears. He had done this. He needed to face that truth and not run from it. Even if these were the worst sort of men out there, he was still killing people. Ace accepted their screams even as he swallowed his bile. He'd killed all those men and it hadn't strictly been necessary. He then saw past the burning rigging the full rig making for the gap. They would be okay. He had saved them. His stomach settled and just in time

Debris and ash fell all around them as they stood their unmoving, some seemed stunned. Had their little Ace, the most reluctant member of the crew just destroyed scores of men and ships? That idea seemed to unnerve them.

Finally, Flint spoke, "So, lad, why?"

"To cover their escape," replied Ace as he pointed toward the entrance to the bay where the full rig was vanishing into the night. There was no point in lying to him and the ship didn't represent a threat to Flint. He wouldn't pursue. Ace then pulled the Eye of Erousha out of his pocket and handed it over to Flint. "Can we go? The Kingpin actually ordered the attack."

"I thought as much. Brazen daylight robbery, so to speak, would only happen at his request," agreed Flint. "I guess we need to go, men, even if it leaves a bad taste in my mouth not to clear the port, but I imagine it willnae be long before those escapees are telling all to the Marines and I rather be long gone before they here."

"What makes ye think the Marines will come here now even if they do talk? They may just lie about how they got the ship," said Silver.

Ace walked past them all as he headed toward the shipyard. "Because I told them to tell the Marines everything. Oh, and to specifically ask for Garp when they did. Jiijii actually cares about people, so he'll listen and then arrange a raid. Though, I guess I could have directed them to Desiree as well, she's closer. I am not sorry."

Flint snorted and gestured for his crew to return to the ship. Time was against them after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ace saves the slaves and wreaks havoc on the hated port. He must be overjoyed and is obviously feeling a little cocking at the end.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	45. Second Thoughts

Chapter 45: Second Thoughts

Ace stood at the railing of the Maiden's Sorrow watching the waves roll and dolphins leap in play. _So, this is goodbye to East Blue_, he thought as he stared at the empty horizon. He had expected to eventually leave the East Blue when he headed to the Grandline in pursuit of the One Piece, the legendary treasure that nearly all pirates were attempting to find. He just hadn't expected his departure would be like this, as the mere cabin boy of a pirate that had no interest in the One Piece.

They were merely moving to the Grandline in order to prepare a shift in hunting grounds, this one had become overpopulated with Marines. Ace suspected it would be a long time before he ever saw East Blue again and it would probably be an even longer time until he saw his brother again. Luffy would head to the Grandline in three years, Flint never hunted in the Grandline. He wasn't interested in facing down the Pirate Emperors and he still felt gratitude toward White Beard. As long as he was aboard the Maiden, Ace would never get to see his brother, their paths would not cross.

Flint's pattern was to not return to a sea he had just prowled until several years had gone by. This allowed things to quiet down, commanders to be promoted and transferred out of the area or get killed in other battles. The last time Flint had been in East Blue had been when the two had crossed paths in the Dancing Bear Tavern twelve years earlier.

Ace was just grateful they were changing seas. The reasons that would prevent him from seeing his little brother would also prevent Luffy from becoming another victim of dread pirate Captain Flint. He would neither be killed, nor would he end up conscripted into service as Ace had been. Ace didn't think Luffy would survive such conscription, his little brother was too simple minded and too impulsive to handle the strict discipline of Flint's ship.

Ace had accepted that only death would free him from the Maiden's Sorrow, his or Flint's. As it was with all the crew. Once a man joined, whether by choice or coercion, they were trapped for life. Flint had too many secrets for him to allow anyone to leave his ship alive. While Syren had been the remarkable exception to this rule, it was not because she had been allowed to leave as much as there was more risk is pursuing the crafty vixen then in leaving her be, once she escaped the port.

In the eight months Ace had been aboard, twenty-four of the near thirty-man crew had been killed and replaced. Only four had actually died in battle, one had been abandoned to die in Des Moor and one had technically been killed by Rasputan after taking Ace hostage, the rest Flint had killed himself for various acts of mutiny or insubordination. While the crew, at first, had hated the special status Flint granted Ace, they had collectively eased up. Ace's status and his own clever solutions had made certain terrible tasks a bit easier to bear for the whole or tamped down Flint's cruelty to the crew at least. Some may even have begun to like him. Ace didn't hold his breath.

Ace sighed again and turned away from the sea. He began checking the rigging to make certain none of the ropes were fraying. They had left Desoro in a bit of a hurry and hadn't had time to go over the ship properly. The Maiden's Sorrow was wearing her Andrea of the Duchy of Kels disguise again. They had switched her colors as soon as they were clear of the pirate island. Flint would have preferred at this stage to had swapped to another disguise, but that hadn't had time to replace the railing décor the rats had destroyed over a month ago and they had no other flags save their pirate flag and the weird anonymous jolly roger. Ace needed to ask about that flag, why did they need an anonymous pirate flag?

Ace returned his focus to the task at hand and grimaced when he observed that some of the rigging had suffered from their hasty departure. They had had to sail through the burning debris during their escape, courtesy of Ace blowing up the port. The crew was still washing the ash off the ship and they really needed to clean the sails. A trade ship shouldn't look like she just escaped a major battle. If a Marine patrol found them, Flint would be trying to answer a lot of uncomfortable questions… or he would just kill them all and skip that step. It depended on what he decided was the safest action. Ace rather they not be found at all, he still suffered nightmares from their encounter with Commander Archigold.

Ace still felt sick about the men that had died because of him, blown to bits by his rigging of the port to cover the escape of the slaves. Even if they were the worst of the worst. He fingered Aaron's pendant. The sensation he received was a strange shrug, as if Aaron specter didn't think Ace had done a bad thing. Ace scowled at the pendant, wasn't it supposed to discourage killing so he didn't end up like Flint?

Flint walked up while staring up at the sails then lowered his emerald gaze on to Ace. "We'll need to stop and get these cleaned up before we enter the Calm Belt."

Ace remained still. Flint's voice and expression were neutral and there was no telling if he was angry or just mildly annoyed. "Do you think the smell of ash will attract the sea kings?" asked Ace in a soft voice.

"No, I just dinnae want to leave a crumb trail for the Marines," said Flint as he continued to stare at Ace. "We fled a burning port and ye let a ship full of slaves escape with instructions that they were to surrender to the Marines and tell them everything. Now they dinnae know anything about my ship, but the Marines will wonder how many pirate ships fled that port and will be looking for scorched vessels. I rather not having them even wondering for a moment how a recently scorched ship wound up in the Grandline when the last place to light up was in the East Blue. We aren't going through the front door, lad. I dinnae want them knowing I can pull the same tricks they can."

"I'm sorry this had caused you so much trouble," said Ace in an even tone. He wasn't the least bit sorry he had helped those people to escape. He'd do it again even if it meant being crucified to the bow of the ship.

"Such a perfectly diplomatic non-apology that was," said Flint with a smirk as he pinched Ace's right ear. "Wherever did learn such tact? Why I'd even say ye were being smart with me just then."

Ace said nothing, just gritted his teeth and waited. Arguing with or, worse, mouthing off to Flint would just make whatever he was going to get much worse. Picking his battles with care had been the first lesson Flint had hammered into him and it had taken several long hammering sessions before Ace accepted the importance of that lesson. He still hadn't mastered it, but he could manage if he stayed calm.

Flint held for another moment of silence then released Ace. Ace took a step back and held a hand to his ear. It throbbed and he could feel the heat rising from the offended area. It was probably as red as a cherry. Flint gazed at him, both hands now resting on his cane and shrugged.

"The Kingpin started that fight by violating his own non-engagement policy he had for his port. I cannot get mad at ye for simply taking advantage of it to do whatever ye pleased. And it's not like I met the man for him to identify me nor does he know how I operate. So, letting the Marines finish him off, works for me. I actually hope it will be Desiree, the vice-admiral needs a few more credits to her name for all the trouble I've given her.

"Besides, the more important reason is it will be a bit before we can get our bearings once we are on the other side. We willnae be able to fix up the ship until we arrive at an island and I still would rather avoid awkward questions. There is an island with a small village up ahead. They dinnae ask questions and will just be grateful we aren't killing them. We pull in there and finish the cleanup. After that it will be a straight shot to Saboady."

"I thought we were going to Angelina," said Ace, his voice still subdued less he invoke another ear pinch from the captain.

"We are but that lies on the other side of the Redline. Saboady is the last stop of all ships seeking to cross that barrier. We willnae be able to cross without a special coating that will allow us to travel under the Redline. It's a real bother and will be the most dangerous stop we make given that Marine Headquarters is right next door along with many other undesirable individuals. Dinnae go causing trouble in that place, no matter what." As he spoke, Flint raised his cane and gave Ace's butt a few light taps for emphasis, a warning.

Ace's didn't doubt he'd get dragged before the mast again if he didn't follow Flint's instructions. If not for the disturbance in Desoro, he wouldn't have done anything there either, but, as Flint said, he had been taking advantage of the Kingpin's folly. If Saboady really was next to Marine Headquarters, he'd be lucky if all he got for causing a ruckus there was the clawed cat. "No trouble, understood, Captain. Maybe I'll just stick with the ship while we're there so there's no temptation to cause any."

Flint grinned. "That would be a very smart idea, Ace."

Then a thought came to Ace. "How do ships get to the other side of the Redline? Is there a tunnel and custom inspections?"

"There is a tunnel under the Redline. It goes by Fishman Island. It's rather perilous, though, and only pirate ships sail it. Legitimate trade doesn't cross the Redline. All legitimate travel has to seek permission from the occupants of Marie Jois in order to go over the Redline, naturally they have to abandon their original ship and acquire a new one on the other side."

"Only pirate ships go beneath?" Ace was stunned. The Maiden couldn't go over the Redline, obviously, but trade ships didn't go under either. Flint would have to prep for his trip under the water while the Maiden presented as herself, but if Marine Headquarters was right there… There was no way they would ignore Flint's presence, unless they didn't know…

"That's what the anonymous jolly roger is for, to pretend we're just random pirates while we wait," said Ace, thinking the last line out loud.

Flint slapped the young man's back hard enough to cause Ace to yelp and nearly lose his balance. "Exactly! I dinnae bother with a Grandline trade flag, we'll be changing to the no-name pirate brand halfway across the Calm Belt and avoid Marine inspection from then on."

At that moment the ship's lookout shouted, "Island ahead!"

"And here we are," said Flint. He turned and headed toward the helm, shouting, "Bring us in, Adrian."

"Ha!" called the helmsman as he turned the ship to port. Ace returned to the railing to watch as the island came into view. The vibrant green of forest trees covered much of it and he could just see the small town that hugged the coast. It was probably a town that traded in lumber and fed off the forest animals and plants as well as fished. Ace leaned on the rail and watched it approach.

As it drew closer, Ace felt like something was off with the scene before him. He squinted trying to figure out what the wrongness was. He strained for over a minute with the town looming larger in his view without figuring out what was bothering him.

"Have ye been able to discern what been troubling ye, lad." Ace was started a bit before letting out an annoyed exhale. In his intense scrutiny he had forgotten Flint was standing near him. Ace glanced at the man and was surprised to see he was looking in the same direction, his expression serious. Most of them time Ace would have been mocked for his intense focus and reprimanded for "spacing out".

"I haven't actually. I feel like there is something wrong with the town, but I can't say what it is that's making me feel that way," replied Ace. Flint's eyes narrowed but he didn't shift his gaze.

"It's too quiet," Flint said in a low rumbling voice that Ace had never heard him speak in before. It made the hair on his neck stand on end. The only time he had heard Flint express any concern over a situation had been when Garp's ship had come to inspect them. This time it sounded like more than nerves. Flint stayed on top because he was always in control of a situation and he was in control because he understood it. Now something unknown was coming into play.

"Should we risk the breadcrumbs?" asked Ace, referring to their earlier conversation.

Flint was silent for a moment as he contemplated Ace's question. It made Ace more nervous for the captain to be considering his suggestion. He looked back at the island still trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

"Adrian, take us in slow. Rest of ye, prepare the second anchor for use and keep the sails loose," ordered Flint.

The second anchor was the disposable anchor that was used when they were worried about having to make a speedy get away. It was tied to a rope instead of chain like the main anchor and could be chopped in an emergency. Keeping the sails loose meant keeping them open even though that would stress the ship to be anchored with open sails should a strong wind come along. However, the ship would be ready to sail at a moment's notice should things turn ugly. It would be a difference of a few minutes, but it could mean the difference between life and death.

"Captain, if this is potentially that hot, shouldn't we just bypass this island and head straight to the Grandline?" asked Jaeger, echoing Ace's earlier remark. Ace looked again to Flint who hadn't taken his eyes off the town. Flint eyes were narrowing, and it seemed like he was trying not to squint. Flint was in his late sixties, that age where things like eyes and ears start to go bad if that is their fate. Was it possible he couldn't see as well as Ace when it came to distant objects?

It was the vice-captain, Quillan, who answered. "The longer our ship sails with scorched sails the riskier our voyage." It wasn't an argument against sailing on just a statement of facts.

Silver had a more defined opinion on the matter. "There is nothing this wee backwater island could offer that we can't handle, right Captain?" Several crewmen echoed their agreement. Ace glowered at Silver. After eight months on the ship, Ace could detect the first embers of a mutiny in progress. Which meant Flint was getting an even bigger whiff. Flint's emerald eyes finally left the island to study Silver. Ace could see Flint working his calculations, trying to determine the wisest course of action.

Silver was confident in their ability to handle problems. He may not have intended to stir up trouble, nothing he said sounded like it, but the other crewmen agreeing with him put Flint in a bad position. If Flint turned away from the island now, he would look like a coward. On this crew, that was a very bad thing. One whiff of weakness and he was done. It was why Flint reacted to all insubordinations and potential mutinous with swift decisive, and seemingly over-the-top, action. He could handle one mutineer but if the others got inspired and acted before he could cow them into submission… Well he was just one man with a useless leg.

"Keep the sails loose," he repeated in a low voice as he turned back to watch the island. The crew rushed to their tasks with a shout of acknowledgment. Ace looked again at Flint. He didn't know why but everything about the captain's stance and stony expression seemed to say he was doing something he didn't want to do.

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I probably should not say anything from here on out.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	46. Murkwood Village

Chapter 46: Murkwood Village

They pulled alongside the empty dock that had been built for the exclusive use of large cargo ships. It was thick and sturdy, made to bear the weight of the lumber that would be loaded onto them for trade. The men dropped the second anchor and set only a few lines to hold her to the dock.

Ace jumped down to the pier and looked around. The dock was thirty feet away from the shore to account for the deeper draft of the big boats. Smaller piers lined the beach… and each and every one of them held a fishing boat. Ace looked up and down the shore, homes stood several yards back from the beach giving him a clear glimpse of some of the streets running through the town. They were empty. No one walked the road or were tending the boats and, besides, at this time of the day, it was barely noon, the fishing boats should have still been out at sea working. Ace felt the knot in his stomach tightening.

"Captain! All the boats are in but there's no one around!" called Ace back up to the ship, while resting the butt of his staff on the dock.

"They ran away from the Headhunter Pirates," said Oscar with a laugh.

Flint struck him across the face with his cane then pointed up with it as he yelled, "Do ye see a black flag flying from this mast?"

"No," replied Oscar while rubbing his face. Despite answering the question, he still looked confused on why he just got whacked. No black flag meant they should have been perceived as a harmless trade vessel. No black flag meant there should have been people to greet them. There was no reason for the citizens to be hiding or to have fled the area. Unless something else had just happened.

"Way to blow our cover, Oscar," said Silver. "Now we have to go ashore to make certain nobody overheard that." Silver's tone suggested that he was having second thoughts about stopping there as well.

"Captain, I know my opinion doesn't mean much, but I think we should just go now and assume nobody heard us," said Jason. Ace's fellow cabin boy did not enjoy the same protections as Ace, but he had a wee bit more respect from the crew. Probably because he had joined the ship still wearing the blood of his murder victims. He was considered a coward due to his timid nature and lack of enjoying torture. He could hold his own in a fight, though.

Ace wished Jason had kept silent. The crew had already been rethinking getting off the ship, the silence creeping them out as it did Ace and Jason. Flint might have been able to make the suggestion to leave immediately at this point without losing face. Jason speaking up may have just ruined that.

Ace only got consideration for his suggestions because he was Flint's pet. It was like he was the anointed one, recognized by Flint as potential Captain material. Things he said or did on behalf of the crew were blessed by the captain as him expressing valued cleverness. Jason had no such recognition and no such privileges on the ship. They may respect him because he's a bloodied killer like them, but he was just a grunt-to-be. The crew often emphasized that point by not accepting a single suggestion from the young man. Of course, that could also have been backlash over having to bite their tongue too much with Ace.

Sure enough, some of the wavering crew hardened their resolve rather than heed their instincts for self-preservation. "No, we should go and make certain," said Williams and he jumped over the railing to join Ace and the other three that were there already to tie the ship. Five others joined him. Flint tisked and heading down the gangplank, since jumping wasn't an option for him.

"Oh, come on! Just because the coward said it doesn't mean it's wrong!" said Harry.

"Move it, yellow-liver!" snapped Silver, shoving the man toward the gangplank.

Jaeger grabbed Silver's shoulder and said, "Just remember, Silver, coming here was your idea." Then he walked by.

"It was not! I just said we can handle it. The captain is the one that said to pull in here, not me!" Silver snapped and jumped down landing next to Ace, refusing to use the gangplank. He liked emphasizing his young strong legs whenever possible.

Ace glared at him with his free hand planted on his hip while the other held his staff and snarked, "And here I thought you were one of the smart ones."

Silver spun and slammed Ace against the ship with such forced that the ship shifted away from the dock an inch. "Ye have something to say to me, spiral ass?!"

Ace grabbed Silver's arm. He didn't dare try to strike with his staff. The position was awkward with the ship behind him and his feet hung over the space between the ship and the pier. The ropes went taunt and the ship groaned before she started to move back toward the pier. If Silver timed his release Ace would be crushed between the hull and the dock.

"Silver! Put Ace back on the dock this instant!" barked Flint. The rest of the crew was part way down the dock, Jason included. The young man had given himself up for dead a long time ago, the proper ending for someone who had murdered both his fiancée and best friend in a fit of dark passion. It was just a matter of when as far as he was concerned. He had said his piece and no longer worried about further consequences.

Some of the crew were rolling their eyes, Flint protecting his pet again. The rest just looked at Silver like he was the biggest dumbass of all time, seemed some agreed with Ace's assessment of the cook. Silver growled then threw Ace onto the dock.

"Just wait until the next time I get ye for potato peeling duty…" whispered Silver before he walked away.

Ace blanched. He was off Kitchen Duty for the foreseeable future, but there was no telling when he would be returned to it. Silver liked to use the time Ace was under his authority to properly discipline him for perceived slights or just take him down a peg. Silver favored the leather strap he used for sharpening his knives and the humiliation of a bruised ass. Given the long drought in Ace abuse the cook was currently suffering, he suspected Silver wouldn't waste any time in bending him over the bench and beating him until he was numb. In fact, he may do that as an opener for every time Ace got Kitchen Duty, until he was satisfied, he had made up the lost time with fifty percent interest.

Flint may protect him from the worst the crew could do but he wasn't so benevolent that he would investigate a disciplining session to make certain it was justified. Ace had suffered a few revenge disciplines because of this policy. Complaining was not an option. Flint hated complaints and was more likely to add to Ace's woes than resolve them. Ace resisted Silver once and Flint had whipped him for attacking one of his officers. He accepted he just had to take it and mind his tongue for the next time.

Ace sighed. No help for it now. He looked around at the empty boats and quiet buildings. The uneasiness was growing. _I actually hope Silver gets that opportunity_, thought Ace. _It will mean nothing bad happened and we were all just jumping at shadows._

The thought of shadows reminded him of Des Moor and Ace swallowed. The town had been here for generations, he was sure, so nothing like Des Moor should exist here. Then a little voice whispered, _Was Des Moor always like that? Or did it become like that? _ Had this island just become the new Des Moor? The thought sent shivers up his spine. At the same time, he hoped it would be exactly like Des Moor. Des Moor was safe as long as the sun was out. With it being noon now, nothing would happen, but not all monsters held to such a rigid scheduled appearance. Ace immediately stopped thinking.

"Captain!" called Scottie from the ship. "I'm going to stay. I got a few things I need to work on."

"That's fine," replied Flint. "I dinnae need everyone to come ashore. Keep Quarken company."

Quarken peered over the railing with a look of extreme disapproval. "For the record, this is reckless. We should just change the sails and get out of here. We're leaving these waters, so nothing these people might have heard matters."

"I agree with the doctor," said Quillan.

Quarken sniffed, "Now ye agree with me?"

The bosun sighed then looked around. Most everyone was ashore now except… "Where's Rasputan?"

"Said something about an urgent matter needing his attention and disappeared as we pulled up. He also said not to wait for him and that he would catch up," replied Scottie with a shrug. He turned away to head to his workroom below.

Flint looked troubled then turned around. "A quick look around town then get back to the ship. If no one's here then, it's a non-issue and we should attend to the Maiden straight away. There is no telling where the Marines are, and I widnae put it past Desiree to be projecting my route from Desoro."

"You think she's close?" asked Jaeger

"We willnae be beset within the next hour, but I rather not linger through the night," said Flint. He began marching into town and the rest the crew followed, breaking up into small groups to scour the side streets.

Ace jogged to put some distance between him and Silver. He wouldn't put it past the ornery cook to jump him if they wound up alone on a side street. He soon caught up to Jason who wouldn't raise his eyes from the ground.

"I should have kept my mouth shut," muttered Jason.

"You didn't say anything that everyone else wasn't thinking," said Ace, which was true. He raised his staff into a ready position in case trouble arrived.

"But look where it got us," said Jason. Ace couldn't argue, he had wished Jason had kept his mouth shut.

"That's the problem when you have a crew full of bloodthirsty fools that have to look tough no matter what," said Ace. "Let's just hope that this is just a bout of paranoia created by what happened in Desoro, with maybe a little help from that teambuilding event in Des Moor." Jason shuddered.

Ace looked over at a sign as they left the dock and started on the road into town. It was a battered sign, long neglected. The paint stripped by salt infused wind and bleached by sunlight. It read "Welcome to Murkwood Village". _Murkwood, huh? _What a dreary name for a place that, if just it had some villagers, would be rather pleasant if boring.

"Ace… Where are the gulls?" asked Jason, breaking into Ace's thoughts.

"Huh?"

"The sea gulls, Ace! There are no seagulls, no pelicans, no frigate birds near the shore despite all those fishing boats that would have attracted them. And here in town and there are no pigeons, songbirds or any kind of bird. There's nothing here but buildings," said Jason.

Ace froze as he realized the true source of his unease. What he had been noticing about the town as they approached. What he had NOT been seeing. The birds! This town fished! This place should have been swarming with seagulls. Nothing should have eliminated the seagulls and other sea birds from here.

Flint had stopped as well. Ace saw him turn his gaze to the sky. He had heard Jason and he was just realizing the same thing they had. They were now standing among the houses and all the doors were open. If the buildings were occupied by frightened citizens, then the doors should have been barred shut.

Ace stepped up to one and used his staff to push the door open further to peer inside. A table was shoved to the side, chairs were knocked over, the stove had been dislodged from its smoke pipe and the soot covered the ceiling where the smoke had filled it. Another open door beyond revealed a bedroom, the sheets were disheveled, a baby crib was knocked over and broken, a doll had stuffing emerging from a torn arm and its face was caved in as if had been speared. There was, however, no blood.

Whatever had happened here had come at night when the town was asleep, attacked with such speed and silence that no one was able to fight back, and dragged the people out without shedding a single drop of blood. And it had happened to the animals as well. There were no chickens, no cats, no dogs, no rodents even. Every living thing was gone. Des Moor had not been this extreme. The swamp had been alive with native animals, it was the people who were in danger there.

"Captain…!" Ace called unable to keep the rising terror he felt from his voice.

"Everyone, get back to ship, now," ordered Flint. "I've let my pride get the best of me. Hurry!" There was quaver in his voice Ace had never heard before, notes of sharpness and babbling speed. Fear. Ace felt panic setting in. Flint was afraid. Some of the newer members looked incredulous but the old timers blanched.

"Everyone, move!" shouted Quillan.

Ace stepped away from the door to follow Flint's orders. Jason glanced up and all the color left his face, his eyes so wide they appeared as if they would fall out. "ACE!" he shouted.

Ace didn't even have time to leap as something making a chittering, clacking sound from above grabbed him. Something furry and without human hands. Ace screamed as he was yanked upward.

"ACE!" yelled Jaeger and he leapt toward him while snapping out his bull whip. The bit of leather just missed wrapping around Ace's ankle then a white silky substance covered his face, his staff knocked form his hands in the confusion. He was spun round and round his body's movements becoming more and more restricted. He heard gunfire and shouting then two points of sharpness pierced his back. His cry of pain was muffled by the silk then he knew only blackness.

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…

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	47. His Captain

Chapter 47: His Captain

Consciousness was slow to return to Ace, his back burned and ached, and breathing was difficult. He opened his eyes to a soft silver blue light filtering through silken fibers. He tried to move but the silk encased his whole body, hindering and unyielding. He could only manage an inch in any direction. A scratching, clicking noise reached his ears and a shadow briefly blotted out the faint light.

Ace froze. He couldn't remember what grabbed him nor did he know what it wanted; if it was even capable of intelligent thought or drive and not just a basic predator looking to fill its belly. He forced his foggy brain to work once the shadow moved on and he shifted his fingers, trying again to move. His hand touched the hilt of the dagger Flint had given him. The dagger had sliced through the thick mooring lines back in Desoro like they weren't even there. Common daggers couldn't do that nor could many swords, at least not without being wielded by a master. His only hope now lay in it having the same capabilities with these threads; provided he could free it from its sheath.

Ace curled his fingers as he pressed the tips against the curled end of the dagger's hilt. First it resisted and he clenched his teeth as he dug his fingernails into the hilt, then the dagger began to rise. Ace pressed one finger against the hilt to hold it in place while the other uncurled and dug its nail further down. Ace held his breath as the extended finger began to curl and the hilt pulled on the nail in resistance to the movement. One mistake and the dagger would slip back into the sheath, undoing all his effort.

The thing moving around outside returned to his cocoon, plunging Ace into darkness once more. The sound of eight impacts on either side of him caused his heart to race. The clicking sounds increased and were now right in front of him. Not daring to breath, staring into the darkened thread before him in fear and defiance, he pulled the blade the last centimeter. Grasping the hilt before it could fall, he twisted his wrist. He felt no resistance as the dagger's edge struck the threads and moving became easier.

He let out the breath he had been holding and moved his arm across his torso, the knife carving an opening through the silk with only a minor acknowledgment of its presence. The thing screeched in a manor Ace had never heard before as he pushed the silk folds away and came face to face with his captor. Eight black eyes stared at Ace from a furry brown head. Two enormous fangs wiggled and clacked against each other and eight thick furry legs surrounded him.

A spider. A spider that was as big as he was. Ace screamed and stabbed up with the dagger. The spider screeched again then rolled over and curled up on itself in death. Easy as slicing wet paper. More clicking sounds could be heard in the distance, but none seemed close. His skin crawled.

_There's more of these things?_ He thought in horror. It explained the empty town but not why it had been so sudden with no defense or awareness by the vanished townsfolk. That meant only one thing, the giant spiders were new, but how they came to be was not his mystery to solve. He needed to escape before the other spiders realized he was loose. After he was away, he might leave a discreet note for the Marines. It was their job to figure these things out, not a pirate, least of all a lowly cabin boy.

Ace took in his surroundings once he was certain he was alone. The spider had taken him into the forests beyond the town and placed him part way up a tree. The soft silver light belonged to the full moon filtering through the branches. Ace grimaced, it had been broad daylight when he had been taken. Ace wondered why he hadn't been devoured already then recalled that some spiders preferred to store their meals to enjoy later. Lucky him.

Not knowing where he was on the island, Ace began climbing the tree. If he could get above the canopy, he might be able to determine which way the docks were. Not that he held onto any hope of reuniting with the crew. Knowing how Flint operated, they had probably fled after he was taken. The Maiden's Sorrow would not be there, but there had been several fishing boats at the docks. Ace grimaced at the thought. Those docked fishing boats had been the first sign of trouble on shore. Curse Silver and his egging.

Ace paused as another thought occurred to him, one that had a smile spreading across his face despite the terrible danger he was in. All he had to do was take one of those fishing boats then he was home free. Free of the spiders and, even better, free from Flint who had written him off as dead. He was free again! Free to be the captain of his own crew like he wanted! Free to adventure and be the kind of pirate he wished to be! Oh, he would have to be careful once he became famous. Flint would recognize his name on the wanted posters and probably come looking for him.

To hell with that! Another anonymous note to the Marines, this time Vice Admiral Desiree specifically, detailing Flint's MO. That would leave Flint too worried about keeping ahead of the Marines to fuss over him. In fact, Flint would be long disposed of before Ace made himself world famous. Okay, maybe Ace wasn't that patient to earn his own name, but he knew how Flint worked. He could avoid him and get himself a crew of dependable comrades that could take Flint if they were unlucky enough to face him. Ace grinned as he continued up the tree. He just needed to navigate through the forest without getting caught by anymore spiders. How ironic it was the dagger and skills Flint had given him that would be the means for Ace's survival and freedom now.

His back still burned where he had been bitten but his head was clearing as the poison wore off. As he climbed, he encountered another cocoon. Ace hesitated for only a moment before cutting it open to see if the occupant was still alive. If they were, he planned to help the person even if it meant making his escape harder, he just couldn't stomach abandoning someone to be eaten by these spiders. The cocoon opened to reveal a shriveled husk; the spider had already dined on this prey. Ace grimaced at the sight and pulled the silk back over before continuing.

He encountered two more cocoons and was tempted to just pass them by due to the terrible find in the first, but could not, in good conscious, leave someone who might still be alive. He clung to his humanity as an act of defiance against the Headhunter's diabolical nature. However, his compassion was not rewarded. Neither cocoon housed a survivor and the second had been especially heart breaking. It had contained a woman curled around her extended belly, a pregnant mother. Ace looked away as he remembered the broken crib and pierced doll he had found in town before he was taken. He shook his head to clear it then continued upward.

The tree turned out to be one of the tallest in the forest and Ace cleared the canopy before its trunk became too frail for his weight. Lucky him again. The tops of pine trees stretched out in all directions from his position, the spiders' pale webs were practically glowing in the moonlight. Ace grimaced at the sight. There were quite a few of them. He couldn't see any place where the ominous strands weren't present. He sucked in a breath then continued to scan for the edge of the forest.

After several minutes of careful searching he spotted rooftops… and beyond he saw the four masts of the Maiden's Sorrow. _What?_ Ace stifled his cry of shock. _The Maiden should have been gone by now. What's it still doing here? _He licked his lips as cold realization occurred to him._ They must not have escaped after all. I can't handle that big boat all on my own, but I could use the supplies and money onboard. I'll load those onto one of the fishing boats before I head out._ A satisfactory plan but it all depended on him reaching the docks without being spotted or there being any other surprises.

Ace took a deep breath then headed back down the tree. He paused every couple of branches to orient himself, it wouldn't do to lose his heading now. It hadn't seen any large trees between him and the coast and most of the trees were covered in webs, boasting of potential spider infestations anyway. Reorienting himself later might not be possible.

Ace stopped on the last branch to scan the forest floor for the giant eight-legged predators. After determining none were near, or at least none he could see or hear, he jumped down. He froze again upon landing with his dagger held before him. If there had been any waiting in ambush, this would be the moment they would strike. Nothing. He let out a breath then turned to leave the forest.

From the corner of his eye he spotted another cocoon resting at the base of a different tree. Ace scratched an arrow with his foot into the dirt to mark the way before creeping toward the new cocoon. He began to look it over trying to determine if there were any signs of life within. He really didn't want to see another dried-up husk. Instead he saw a long and black stick-like object with a gold round cap in the shape of an eagle's head protruded from the silk. A cane, _Flint's_ cane! This cocoon held Flint! Ace stumbled back a few steps, tripping on a root that sent him sprawling. He sat back up and stared at the silken coffin, momentarily possessed of the irrational fear that it would open on its own and produce Flint in all his murderous glory.

After a moment of nothing occurring, the only sounds being rustling pine needles in the breeze and the distant clicking of man-eating spiders, Ace shook himself, ashamed of his reaction. Flint was a crafty man that relied on his wits and getting into the heads of others to survive but a man was all he was. A crippled man with only one good leg.

Ace steadied his breathing then rose to his feet. He felt a laugh rise in his throat, but he managed to keep it to a quiet snicker, a wiry half grin appearing on his face as he gazed at the damning cocoon. What excellent news for him! Flint was here, caught by the spiders. Once Ace escaped this island, he would never see Flint or his crew of cutthroats again. He wouldn't have to do anything except walk away and freedom would be his! True freedom! No worries about avenging pirates hunting him down and threatening his new friends. He wouldn't even have to risk contacting the vice-admiral. He could just walk away and pretend this whole horrid eight months had never occurred. He turned to start his trek toward town and the docks beyond.

_Yes, walk away, boy. Any of us would do the same._

Silver's sneer stopped Ace. Why did it have to be the pirate Ace liked the lease to voice the sentiment?

_Be a true Headhunter, even in yer parting, leave the fools to die._

Headhunters abandoned, even killed their own if it suited them. They had no loyalty. Every day Ace had been with them he had felt he was in danger of losing himself, of becoming something he didn't recognize. Something he despised.

Ace looked at his dagger. The dagger Flint had given him. Flint had given him lots of things, skills he would need if he were to ever be the captain of his own ship and more. He had even gifted him with his own unique navigation ability. Ace would have been dead months ago due to his ignorance of the sea if not for Flint's idle whim to make Ace join his crew. Ace hated the man and everything he represented and yet…

Flint was still his captain.

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Ace is just too good a person.

In the original structure this was the place where the flashback sequence would start as the story original began with Chapter 1 as the prologue and Chapter 45 as the Chapter 1. It was supposed to be why Ace is debating saving Flint, the thoughts running through his head as he thought about that last several months. However, as you can see that structure was abandoned for a more detailed story with better flow.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	48. Flint's Last Order

Chapter 48: Flint's Last Order

Ace moved through the forests with as much silence and stealth as he was capable of while carrying his unconscious Captain over his shoulder. Flint's breathing was shallow. Like Ace, and probably everyone else that had been captured by the spiders, Flint had been bitten. Unlike Ace, Flint didn't seem to be recovering.

More cocoons could be seen in the trees he passed but only those on the ground did he take the time to slash open. He was certain most were dead villagers. While some may have contained crew members, taking the time to climb a tree, when the odds were low, he would find a live person, would have been foolish. Instead he slashed the cocoons that lay within reach as he traveled. If he spied shriveled skin, he moved on.

In one cocoon the occupant was still plump so Ace cut it open. He didn't know what he was going to do if they were unconscious like Flint. He couldn't carry a second person without putting himself at considerable risk. It turned out he didn't have to worry about it this time.

When the cocoon was pulled open it revealed the ship's doctor, Quarken. The man's gray eyes were half open and sightless. Ace pressed a hand to his throat to feel for a pulse but there was none and his skin was cold. The spider's venom had finished him off, he just hadn't been fed upon yet. He pinched the silk together again and adjusted Flint's body.

Ace swallowed as he turned away. Quarken had stayed on the Maiden when they went ashore. The spiders had invaded the ship and taken the doctor from his medical ward. What of Scottie then, who would have been in the lower hold with two shut hatches between him and the surface, one of them flush with the floor. Perhaps he was still onboard and hiding below deck.

The sails had been left open and Ace's dagger could cut through the ropes easily. If Scottie was still alive, the two of them might be able to sail the ship away from here. If he found anyone else, it would make it that much easier.

_Why am I recovering while they aren't?_ wondered Ace as he moved. _We were attacked by the same things, weren't we? Is it because I'm young and Flint and Quarken aren't? _That was probably it. Then again Rasputan had noted before that Ace healed better than most.

Two more dead cocoons and he found another crew member. He cut open the thread to discover Jason. The young man was breathing and didn't seem as pale as Flint in the filtered moonlight. Ace stared at the unconscious young man, wondering what he was going to do. He couldn't carry him, but he also didn't seem as bad off as Flint. Ace raised a hand and slapped Jason.

"Wake up!" he hissed as he struck again. "I can't save you if you don't, Jason. Wake up!"

Jason groaned and his eyes fluttered. At first, they were empty then they snapped into focus and he opened his mouth. Fearing he was about to shout, Ace put his hand over Jason's mouth.

"Don't scream!" he whispered. "You'll alert them."

Jason's eyes were wild with fear for a moment then he calmed and nodded. He shook his head as if to clear it and tried to push himself out of the cocoon. Ace took the young man's arm and pulled him out. Jason swayed but remained standing.

"Can you walk?" asked Ace.

"I think so," replied Jason in the same hushed voice. He looked at Ace again. "You have the captain?!" He sounded incredulous. Ace ignored it. There was no time to explain and Ace wasn't sure he could put into words the emotions that had made him pull Flint from that cocoon.

"Quarken's dead, I found him on the way here," said Ace as he scanned the trees for movement.

Jason let out a slow breath. Quarken was one of the core members of the crew. The story was he had joined when Flint was just starting out. The chances of finding a competent doctor they could trust to do their job was zero, but that was a problem for another day. Today's problem was getting back to the ship.

"That means the spiders got to the ship!" hissed Jason, realizing the same thing Ace had.

"I know!" whispered Ace. "Scottie was on the ship, but he was below deck. I don't think they could have reached him with the hatches shut. If we can get to her, and get him out, we have a chance of escaping.

"Silver and several others took off as soon as you were taken," said Jason, more to himself than Ace. "I thought they would have taken the Maiden. Did they not reach the ship before they were overwhelmed? Can we really get back to the pier? Which way is the town anyway?!" His voice was becoming more high-pitched, though, still a whisper. He was starting to panic. What a time for him to decide he wasn't ready to die after all.

"Jason!" hissed Ace and slapped him. "Do not freak out on me! If you start to squeal about our hopelessness every spider in the vicinity will descend on us. We need to be smart, Jason. If you can't be smart at least shut up and stick close."

"You're certainly the captain's protégé," muttered Jason as he rubbed the cheek Ace had slapped.

Ace swallowed his initial response and began to move to the next tree. They were wasting time. There was no telling when the spiders would come looking for their dinner. "Come on," said Ace. Jason didn't say anything more as he followed. It seemed when Jason got irritated, he could focus. That was good.

They moved several more yards in silence before an unearthly screech filled the air. It sounded angry. The skittering noise of many legs moved through the trees toward the angry screech.

"Oh hell, someone's missing dinner," whispered Ace. "Let's pick it up. They won't know which way we went." Ace hoped he and Jason could handle the Maiden alone. With the spiders becoming active again there was no more time to check other cocoons for crewmen. They would even have to leave Scottie in the hold until they were out to sea. Unless the shipwright noticed the ship's movement and came up on his own. Ace actually expected to find the tinkerer still working his experiments in the dark, oblivious to the tragedy befalling the crew.

Jason's eyes were wide as he stared in the direction of the converging spiders. The color was draining from his face. He was panicking again. Ace was growing concerned that Jason was going to bolt. Running blind into a nighttime forest filled with giant, man-eating spiders would be his death.

"Jason, come on! We need to move," hissed Ace. He grabbed Jason's arm with his free hand. "They don't yet know we're over here. We can still make it, but you won't if you can't keep it together. It's one thing to be scared, it's another to let it damn you! Jason! We can still get out to sea, but we have to arrive at the docks without giving ourselves away."

Jason turned to look at Ace and Ace saw his eyes land on Flint. Something in his brown eyes shifted. Ace was weighed down by their captain. He couldn't move as quickly, and Jason was thinking about their chances should they have to run. Ace could read in the other's eyes that he thought he would be better off if he struck out on his own. Ace disagreed but if Jason decided to abandon him, there was nothing he could do.

"Put me down, Ace. Ye cannot escape like this."

Ace looked over his shoulder as Jason gasped, "Captain!"

Ace hesitated then did as he was instructed, pulling Flint's cane from his belt and handing it to him as the man struggled to stand. Flint propped himself against the tree even as he leaned heavily on the cane, his good leg trembling. Flint could not have run even on his best days, walk quickly but not run. In his current condition, moving was impossible.

Ace felt the same knot of anxiety in his stomach as he had when he was trying to decide to leave or save the man. "Captain, we need to go. Those spiders will be here any minute," said Ace reaching for the man.

Flint intercepted Ace's wrist, arresting his motion. The old Captain stared into Ace's eyes, his own once vibrant green irises were drained of all color and the pupils were gray… and sightless. Pale flesh stretched over hollow cheeks. He looked even worse than when Ace had pulled him from the cocoon. The pirate Captain's grip was weak, and his fingers felt like that of a skeleton. Where was the captain's strength? Where was the indomitable spirit that made men tremble? This hollowed broken thing was the most notorious man on the high seas? Ace couldn't stand the sight of the man that had inspired terror in him for eight months being so helpless now.

Flint squared his shoulders and said in a soft voice, "I must look quite the sight to inspire such pity from ye, lad."

Ace flinched back. His lack of poker-face had always been his bane on this ship. Flint could read him like a book.

Flint gave a weak laugh and continued, "I am flattered by yer loyalty, though I have done not to deserve it."

Ace grimaced and looked sideways. "Don't think anything of it, I don't know why I-"

Flint's hand released Ace's wrist and grabbed the top of Ace's head, pulling him forward until they were forehead to forehead. "That's who ye are, Ace. Embrace it! Ye're a better man than I! To inspire this old bastard to improve himself in his twilight hour, to reach for light that had long been lost… Ye are fire, Ace! Pure, untainted fire. I saw it that first day. It's still too soon for ye but I have no more time. I wanted to sharpen ye just a bit more, but it's not meant to be."

"Captain?" whispered Ace, his chest growing tight with emotions he did not expect.

"Curse these eyes!" said Flint, with a shudder as he released Ace, letting distance return. "I wanted one last look at ye, but they've lost the light. They've been slowly going but now they're gone. My ears aren't much better it seems. I could have sworn I heard the gulls of this island, but they were just phantoms, phantoms my memory created to cover the loss. If I had known the gulls were gone, I would have never set foot on this accursed island. I would have risked Silver's mutiny."

Ace could only gape at Flint. Going? Flint had been going blind? And now his ears were failing? How long had this been going on? How was even running the ship as if nothing were amiss before now? How had even realized Ace was pitying him just a moment before if he couldn't read his face? "How?" gasped Ace finally.

Flint chuckled and patted Ace's head. "It's haki. I told ye before. To see the unseen, to know the unknown, and to fight with the strength of a hundred. A requirement of the Grandline, remember?"

Flint pulled back until his head was resting against the trunk and flicked his eyes in the direction the spiders had gone. "These spiders dinnae feel any different from regular spiders, that's why I didn't notice. I know what I'm looking for now. They are still scrambling over that way a bit. They huvnae begun to spread out yet. So, I urge ye to continue to travel with stealth as the top priority. If ye do something to alert them to yer position, they will come for ye."

"Yes, sir," said Ace. It was the only thing he could think to say.

Flint chuckled and touched his right cheek. "Ye're still wearing yer mark. I felt it strike my face just now."

Ace blanched and reached his hand up to his left ear. The small gold pendant met his fingers. He wasn't supposed to wear his pirate mark when the ship was passing as a trade ship. He had forgotten to take it off when they left Desoro. This was only the second time he had worn it. Between the newness of the item and the rush to escape the burning port he forgot he was even wearing it.

Flint waved his hand. "It's only noticeable when there is a group of them. Marines are used to tattoos not earrings, which why I chose it. No one will think it is anything other than yer taste in fashion expressing itself now."

The pendant had Ace's spade mark and he could keep wearing it if he wanted. Only pirate ports would recognize it as a sign he was a former Headhunter and maybe not even then. Ace didn't know what to say to that, he didn't know if he wanted to keep the earring given how unhappy this whole experience had been. However, like with his decision to try to save his captain, he found the thought of throwing it away unsettling.

Flint returned his sightless eyes to Ace and continued, "Something unnatural happened here, Ace. Once ye're away burn the island if at all possible, destroy these things before there are any more victims." Ace nodded. It was strange to hear Flint talking like he cared about other people but who knew with the man. Perhaps, as he was dying, the old Captain Samuel Abrams he had once been was reemerging. The seemed a better explanation even as it twisted Ace's heart.

"Ace, take the Maiden. Ye can do whatever ye want afterwards, but she is a good ship. Ye'll need a good ship. It will also allow Rasputan to find ye faster. He can track the ship. Dinnae know how, but he can."

"Rasputan? But he would have been caught like the others…"

Flint shook his head. "Dinnae worry about him. Remember, he said he would catch up. He's not here. These things aren't a problem for him, I'm sure of it."

_Rasputan picked a fine time to disappear from the ship_, thought Ace bitterly.

"Ace, if ye do leave the Maiden, make sure to get my chart book and logbook from the main cabin. Make sure they stay with ye. The chart book contains all the islands in the East Blue including those that are not public knowledge, and those the World Government doesn't know about. However, it does also contain the charts for Saboady and Angelina within it. I only carry the chart book I need for the ocean I'm prowling but all of them have the way to Angelina described."

He paused and fiddled in his inner pocket, removing a gold pocket watch. Flint used his watch to keep track of the longitude when he sailed. He had only just started showing Ace in the few days before they arrived here. The time on the watch was set to Saboady, he calculated longitude from the difference. Between the stars and the watch, Ace would have everything he needed to sail like Flint, provided he could remember the coordinates for Osanato. Then again, that was what the chart book was for.

"Take this," said Flint. "It's more than just a means to travel. It's the key…" He started coughing. "Blasted tumor," he muttered. "I've been too long without my medication."

"Captain?" Ace took the watch and held it against his chest as the pain within became unbearable. It was a terrible thing to die of disease, especially for old warriors. To be brought down by a foe they couldn't even face.

_It would have been better for him to have been caught by the vice-admiral. He would have his last hurrah from the executioner's platform, remained strong and terrible, not fading from awareness like this. Was that why my shitty father made that choice? _Ace shuddered then hardened his heart against the man he had loathed since the day he first learned his connection to him._ It still doesn't make it right that he sired me knowing the enemies he was leaving to torment me and mother. It just too irresponsible and selfish._

"Why is that so important, now?" asked Ace. Flint was emphasizing the charts on Angelina and Saboady like he wanted Ace to go there. Why bother when the Headhunters were finished?

The captain shrugged. "It's up to ye, but ye may find ye need them later on." Flint shook his head. "I can't believe I made such a terrible call. Failed as a captain here in my final hour and put everyone in this much danger because of my pride. My instincts told me to sail on, but I let Silver…" He coughed; his breathing was getting weaker.

"With a crew like this…" started Jason. Ace was thinking it as well. With a crew like this how could Flint have avoided it without suffering a major fight aboard his own ship just shy of the Calm Belt?

"That's entirely the problem. I chose this path because I was afraid of being hurt again. I lost so much, and it nearly destroyed me. I should never have taken such an unfeeling route even if I became a pirate." He paused. He reached out to Ace and took his hand. "I have only one last piece of advice for ye, Ace. Yer pride is yer bane and I fear it will lead ye to a similar end if ye are not careful. So, remember this: Sometimes ye need to retreat to advance. Sometimes ye need to lose to win. If ye want to go further than those who have come before, be prepared to fall in order to learn how to fly."

Flint gave Ace a weak jab in the chest. "Now go. Live! And remain true to yerself. Become great!"

Ace gritted his teeth as he felt something, something he hadn't felt in seven years rise within him. An emotion that he had experienced once when his best friend and brother had died. Grief. Ace staggered back a few steps as he struggled to control himself. When he had calmed his breathing, he looked back up. Jason was watching him, and Flint smirked as if he knew everything. He then pulled his pistol from his belt. He gave Ace a salute then turned his attention on the forest beyond where the spiders would surely come from.

Ace bowed his head as the only thing he could do to show his respect to a man who had saved him from death and trained him so he wouldn't end up in that same situation ever again. However awful his time on the ship had been, he had still learned a lot. He then straightened and began to rush through the trees, Jason right behind him.

Flint has said the spiders were mostly in the direction they had come from. There may still be some ahead, but they would have a few moments to let speed carry them through the trees.

Then fire erupted several yards to their left and another screech was heard. A crewman had freed himself… and he had just attracted the attention of every spider in the forest.

Their head start was about to vanish.

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Ahh… Flint does have a heart.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	49. Nightmare Run

Chapter 49: Nightmare Run

Ace and Jason ran through the forest at breakneck speed, stealth abandoned. The explosion had brought the spiders scurrying in the direction of the fire, which was far too close for them to dodge the giant arachnids. They would be scouring the area if they didn't locate the cause and Ace and Jason were within their search radius.

The report of Flint's gun told them how fast the eight-legged beasts could move. They had been far enough away that Flint had been comfortable giving them a farewell speech. That distance had been covered in less than thirty seconds from when the explosion occurred to when the first shot rang out. Ace couldn't believe how much ground those things could cross in so little time. There was hope that Flint's attacks would divert the spiders' attention to him and give Ace and Jason a little more time. Perhaps it would even stop them continuing after them if they thought Flint was the escapee/source of the disturbance.

Another explosion erupted next to them and both young men were blown sideways tumbling several feet. Ace pulled himself off the ground as Jason stared in the direction of the flames with unbridled terror. The new explosion would guarantee that Flint's efforts were in vain. The spiders would come here for sure now.

"Go! GO!" shouted Ace as he dragged Jason onto his feet. There was no time to think, they had to run.

Yelps and cries of pain echoed from the flames then several men leapt out and began barrel rolling along the ground. The fire from the explosion had freed others.

They leapt to their feet, scorched but alive and able to run. "Pyrus, you fire-crazed lunatic! Are you trying to kill us!" shouted one freed member as he rolled to his feet.

"Thank me! Those threads weren't cutting for beans," said Pyrus as he hurled a few more grenades into the forest around them.

Ace and Jason ran past them, startling the men. "Run, you fools, they're coming!" shouted Ace. He could hear the skittering of the spiders' many legs over the crackling of the fires. They were almost on top of them.

"Ace? Jason?" called Pyrus, incredulous, two lit grenades in his hand. "You escaped on your own?" He tossed them with a mad cackle into the pitch-dark forest. Another explosion nearly took Ace and Jason off their feet and caused the others to stagger as well.

"Jason and I were able to escape without attracting every spider in the forest to us," shouted Ace without slowing down, silence no longer a priority. "You couldn't have used a little fire to burn the cocoons? You just had to use your fucking bombs?!"

"What's the problem? Spiders don't like fire," said Pyrus

True, the spiders were not entering the burning area. Spiders did cook pretty easily in heat. A small reprieve but the light had revealed their fleeing prey to them. While the flames were keeping them at bay, Ace doubted Pyrus had enough bombs to create a fire tunnel all the way to the docks. Once they left the fire zone or the fire died down the spiders would catch them. Ace tried to think about the distance covered since he left his tree. How far did they have left to travel until they reached the town?

"Pyrus, stop being crazy with the bombs!" shouted Ace. "How many do you have left?"

"You're not the captain!" sniffed Pyrus as he hurled under three bombs. Ace wanted to punch him. They were running for their lives and Pyrus only cared about blowing stuff up rather than surviving. However, Ace couldn't afford to waste their pyromaniac.

"Captain's dead," Ace said bluntly. The gun had gone silent some time ago. Flint was gone.

Pyrus nearly fell over in shock but, once recovered, sneered, "So what should stop me from blowing you up?"

"Do you want to be eaten, Pyrus?" The voice belonged to Jaeger. The bosun appeared along with Quillan and another. The older man was holding his side and wheezing but he was keeping pace. He had his musket tucked under his arm; ready to use. Ace glowered at them, it seemed everyone had managed to hang on to their weapons while he had stupidly dropped his staff.

Pyrus squawked. To have both the enforcer and the vice-captain appear shook him. Quillan glanced at Ace his eyes flickering with suppressed emotions. Quillan and Flint had been voyaging together since very near the beginning of Flint's career. They had to be like brothers after all this time and hearing Flint was dead must have affected him. However, he was a veteran pirate of the sea. He swallowed his feelings.

"How many bombs, Pyrus?" Jaeger pressed.

Pyrus threw another four. "A dozen."

"A dozen?! You've been throwing those at three to four a shot!" yelled Jaeger.

"How far do we have left before we reach the town? Are we even heading in the right direction?" asked Austin, huffing. He stood further ahead, one of the first to appear after the explosions hit.

"If I haven't lost the route," said Ace looking through the trees to see only smoke. He would gather no more guidance from the stars and climbing trees now was out of the question. He grimaced, it was all up to luck and his memory for directions. "Then I think we are about a minute and half to two minutes out at this pace." He had been checking the sky as he moved before the explosions hit and was confident he was traveling in the correct general direction. But a general direction could still result in them hitting the undeveloped coast to either side of the town, then they would be trapped between the ocean and the spider infested forest.

"Throw one every ten seconds once we clear the fire zone," said Jaeger.

"One's not going to do much of anything," Pyrus sulked.

"Then best to make it count," snapped Quillan, finally getting enough wind to say something.

Ace drew his dagger again, missing his staff even more. The staff didn't have a nice pointy end to stick menacing spiders with, but it would have done well to keep the spiders off him. With a dagger he was going to have to get very personal with the eight-legged predators. Jason drew his broadswords as he prepared for their mad run. However, his eyes didn't descend into that detached state he usually entered when fighting. These were not human opponents, the spiders had triggered a primordial fear within the young man, one that he could escape from. This was not good. He had been trained to fight human opponents and never faced wild beasts before. He didn't know how to overcome the natural terror beasts invoked in people.

It didn't take them nearly as long as they would have liked to clear the burning area and the spiders took even less time to strike. One of the fleeing men screamed as he was grabbed by the oversized arachnids. Pyrus threw a bomb in the direction of the attacked man. The spiders in the area screeched and scattered, the man dropped to the ground but didn't move again. The grenade bounced past the man and exploded several feet beyond.

Ace slowed to retrieve him then sped up when he got closer. The man's eyes were sightless, and blood leaked from his mouth. Two dark holes pierced his back. Poison or no poison, the fangs had hit something vital that time.

"This is bad!" shouted Jason. "They recognize the grenades as threats. They were leaping for cover before it even went off."

"They're intelligent," snarled Austin.

"Just focus on going straight," shouted the bosun. "If we're forced to stop, we're done."

Quillan let loose a blast of his gun and a spider's face exploded. The spiders began to dive in from the sides. Ace ran his dagger between the eyes of one. Jaeger ripped two legs off another with his whip. Austin crushed a third's head with his cudgels, but the numbers were overwhelming. Pyrus threw another bomb into a batch, at least two shriveled up in the resulting explosion and a few more ran off trailing flames, spreading the fire into more sections of the forest.

Several came at Pyrus, zeroing in on the source of the bombs. The man shrieked and threw several bombs in all directions. Ace yelped as he narrowly dodged one that landed by his foot, tumbling head over heels as the concussion of the explosion propelled him forward. He narrowly avoided stabbing himself with his dagger in the roll. Another man was less lucky; his leg was blown off. He howled as he writhed on the ground. Before Ace could react, a spider dropped down from the branches above and began wrapping him in a cocoon. Two more appeared and they began squabbling over the squirming cocoon.

Ace gripped his dagger ready to plunge in when something wrapped around his free wrist and yanked him forward passed the fight. It was Jaeger with his bullwhip. He and the master gunner were running side-by-side, guarding each other's flanks.

Austin grabbed and twisted Ace's right ear once he pulled even with them. "Stop dawdling, you fool!" he yelled.

Someone else was yelling at the same time. "Pyrus, you bloody idiot! You took out Hendrickson and used too many bombs! You were supposed to space those!"

"Don't tell me what to do! They were coming right at me!" hollered Pyrus, he looked even more deranged now then he usually did. "I'll blow you up!" He held up his last three bombs. They were already lit.

A shot rang out and a bloody whole appeared in his forehead. Quillan turned his musket back on the spiders with a look of disgust. Jason leapt over Pyrus's corpse as Ace, Jaeger and Austin race passed it. Several spiders lunged for the body and a second later they all blew apart when the three bombs exploded. That was it for fire control. They would have to fight their way through from there on.

The remaining men grouped as close as they could as they ran to better cover each other's backs. None of them were going to get out of this if they couldn't work together. A tall order for a crew that had always lived by the edict, "Every man for himself!" when times got hard.

They hit a small rise. It wasn't too tall or wide and they could have detoured around it if they weren't being assaulted from all sides. Maybe that had been the point, the spiders were displaying better teamwork than the men were. From that brief opening in the forest, though, they could see the town and the Maiden's Sorrow beyond. They were only a few yards from the open streets and a straight shot to the harbor. Nothing was moving below them yet, but it wouldn't stay clear for long at this rate.

Quillan stopped and began firing at the spiders as they appeared from the trees. "Go!" he shouted. "Jump!"

The men threw themselves down the cliff as another sharpshooter backed up Quillan in his efforts to kill spiders. It wasn't entirely altruistic. The more spiders the two shot now the fewer would try to jump them in town and their numbers did appear to be thinning.

Ace leapt down the embankment, sliding midway down like the others, his arms out to stabilize himself. Then his foot snagged, on a root or a rock he wasn't sure, but he heard something crunch in his left leg as pain shot through him. Panic set in as he realized he had just twisted his ankle, possibly even broken it. He still had the whole town to pass through before he reached the docks, never mind the ship.

He tumbled the rest of the way to the bottom of the rise, dropping his dagger. He rolled to the bottom and lay still for a moment as he tried to suppress the pain before he pushed himself to his knees. His dagger had tumbled several feet to the side. He had an irrational need to retrieve it. Flint had said it was special when he presented it to him and it sure had been proving it tonight. It had been slicing spiders like they were paper; had cut their threads like they were non-existent. He was certain that even if he was left behind, due to his injured ankle, he could still survive if he just had that dagger.

"Ace! What the hell are you doing? Get up!" yelled Jaeger as he dragged Ace to his feet by his hair.

"My dagger!" gasped Ace, tears streaming down his face from the white-hot agony roaring up his injured ankle. He was standing, his leg held… barely. Running was still questionable. A spider appeared out of the forest just beyond his weapon.

Jaeger tisked and snapped his bullwhip out to snag the blade. He hadn't noticed Ace's leg, he just knew that, without a weapon, Ace couldn't protect himself and everyone needed to be able to do that much. If he realized Ace was injured, he would abandon him then and there. Ace knew that and was glad the yanked hair allowed him to cover the source of the pain he was in. He just needed his dagger back before they realized his predicament and abandoned him like they did Hendrickson.

The whip coiled around the dagger's hilt and the bosun pulled back. The spider leapt forward as the flying blade rose up. Jaeger and Ace both stared in horror. At this moment they were helpless to defend against the spider's attack. The pale blue blade's edge struck the spider's face… and kept going, slicing through its black eyes and continuing to cut off two legs at different segments. The spider screeched and fell to the side, writhing and turning in circles.

Jaeger retained enough of his senses to catch the incoming blade by the hilt, but his jaw hung open in shock. Ace was now terrified the man was going to keep it. Flint was gone, there was nothing to keep him from taking the dagger and abandoning Ace. The bosun stared at it in amazement then did a strange thing. He handed it back to Ace without a word, releasing him as he did.

Spiders were coming around the bluff as Quillan and the second sharpshooter descended. Jason lost all self-control at this moment. Screaming, he plunged straight into the trees trying to race into town and to the ship while everyone was waiting for their group to reform. Several shadows streaked after the young man.

"JASON!" screamed Ace and he took a step after him on instinct. Jaeger grabbed him just as the knee of his injured leg buckled.

"Leave him, he's dead," said the Vice-Captain as he came to a stop at the bottom of the rise.

Quillan's cold order came a mere second ahead of Jaeger's, "Your leg is injured!" Everyone glanced at Ace.

"I'm fine!" hissed Ace. "I'll run it off!"

Then a human scream pierced the night. Ace stared into the darkened forest primordial fear starting to erode his rationale. What king of delusions was he under to think he could survive if he had his dagger? Ace gritted his teeth against the pain and despair. He needed to stay with the group. Death was all that was waiting for him if he got separated.

"Ye had better," said Quillan. "Let's move!"

Ace forced his injured ankle to work and ignored the pain as best he could as he stagger-ran with the others. The spiders definitely seemed to be less now but Ace was feeling a renewed terror within him. Was it because so many had been killed? Or were they figuring out where they were going?

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I am sort of sad I never got to explore Pyrus's character more. Oh well.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	50. The Last Stand

Chapter 50: The Last Stand

The surviving pirates ran down the main street with the spiders heckling them along the path, but their numbers were definitely down, and these ones seemed more cautious. Quillan and the other snipers were able to pick off a few that didn't duck behind a building fast enough. The spiders failed to take any more victims.

Ace kept up with the group, but his stamina was gone. Ordinarily this would have been an easy pace to maintain but his injured ankle taxed him in ways a long run never could. Jaeger took pity on him and put Ace's arm over his shoulder, becoming the young man's crutch. Ace didn't know why he wasn't just dumped like any of the other crew but wasn't about to argue against this small mercy.

They reached the shore and a few of the men began to cheer. "Praise be! We made it! There's the ship!"

"Dinnae celebrate until this island is a speck on the horizon," said Quillan as he took another shot at a spider on the roof. The Vice-Captain looked back as Jaeger and Ace drew up the rear. "I thought ye said ye could run it off."

Ace didn't say anything. He wasn't putting any weight on it now. A glance down told him how bad it was. His leg above his boot was swollen and discolored and the boot felt like it was squeezing his foot. If Jaeger hadn't decided to help him, he would have dropped out. A few of the men rolled their eyes and glared at him. Others had been abandoned with less crippling wounds.

"With all due respect, Vice-Captain," said the bosun in a manner that suggested otherwise. "You have not the ability to lead a horse to water. The captain was our navigator and now he's gone. Ace, here, was able to hold our heading in those forests and keep track of the distance. We arrived in town just about when he said we would. I don't know about you, but I would like to find our way to another island not wander the sea lost. Seeing how as I don't want to escape this bloody island only to die at sea, I thought the small aid was worth it. I would think the rest of you would feel the same."

Quillan was the only one who continued to look hard at Jaeger and Ace while the rest found something else to look at. Ace had his answer to why Jaeger was helping him. Flint had been their ship's only navigator; without him they had no hope of getting anywhere except by chance. Hard to steal a ship if the captain was the only one who knew their location. However, he had been teaching Ace his tricks. Gold for a mutineer and absolutely priceless in their current situation.

"Vice-Captain we're wasting time," said Austin breaking the silence. "We need to go! There may be less of them, but I somehow don't think this is over."

Ace looked passed them to the long dock. Something had been flickering just on the edge of his perception. In the silver moonlight he saw tiny flashes of light moving around the ship and dock. Like…

"Threads," whispered Ace.

The men fell silent and looked at him. Ace held a hand up and pointed toward their ship. "Threads," he repeated. "I can just see them flickering against the night sky. I think… those are spider webs and they're linking with the dock!"

Ace had realized when he found Quarken the spiders had invaded the ship; he just hadn't realized they decided to stay. _The terrestrial spiders that attacked us must have hit the ship first and then these web-spinners moved in to enjoy the tall open masts to weave their webs._

The men cried out in horror and Quillan snarled, "Blasted! Some kind of orb spinners must be nesting on our ship. We'll have to take our chances with the fishing boats, at least we'll be able to catch our meals until we reach new land."

"But the treasure!" protested one of the others.

"Feel free to feed the spiders if that treasure means more to ye than yer life," said Quillan as he spied another would-be eight-legged attacker and fired. "We're going to have to start over but, without Flint, that was what was going to happen anyway.

Ace stared at the boats and felt a queasiness rise in him. Orb spinners were a type of spider, ones that built webs and caught whatever ran into it. The spiders in the forests ran and jumped after them like jumping spiders and those that likes to prowl for their food. Fishing boats were small and had an enclosed cabin space with a single opening or door for the one to two-man crew to enter or leave when seeking shelter from the weather when out at sea. A den with a single door, similar to…

"Wait! Don't approach those boats!" yelled Ace.

"What are ye going on about, lad?" demanded Quillan.

One of the pirates was almost to the nearest boat when Ace called out. He stopped then looked down at his feet, lifting one up. "What the-?" He didn't get to finish his thought before something exploded out of the cabin of the fishing boat. Two sets of jointed hairy legs enfolded the man as he screamed then withdrew back into the boat, the door closing. The man's muffled screams fell silent. It happened within the space of five seconds, no one had had time to react.

"Trapdoor spider," said Ace in a small voice.

"Oh hell," muttered the bosun. Some of the men fell to their knees in hopeless despair. Jumping spiders in the forest, trap-door spiders in the fishing boats and a nest of orb spinners on the Maiden. No wonder Silver had failed to escape the island despite being the first to run. It didn't look like any of them were going to walk away from this.

"There's still a chance we can get out. We just need to lure out those trapdoor spiders and kill them when they emerge," said Quillan. The Vice-captain's strength lay in business and finance. Absolutely essential for the type of pirating Flint did but not so great in life and death situations like these. Quillan could keep his head, he just couldn't figure out battle strategy. Combat had been Flint's specialty.

"You're bloody mad if you think anyone is volunteering to be bait, you saw how fast it moved," stated Jaeger. He removed himself from Ace, leaving the young man to stand on one leg while he confronted Quillan. As ship enforcer, he understood combat, and the crew, better than Quillan did. This was a sad thing to learn about one's vice-captain right when he's needed to step up. "It'll be back in its den before we can fire a single shot and the poor soul who lured it out isn't surviving even if we do fire in time. Then there's the fact we'll be damaging the boat we're trying to use and only a couple people, maybe three, can make use of it. We'll have to do the bait thing for at least three other boats and lose men in the process. And this one is now fed so he isn't coming out for nothing, now."

Several crewmen glared at Quillan, echoing the bosun's sentiments. Quillan looked like he wanted to shoot Jaeger but with the rest of the men siding with their bosun, Quillan wisely didn't. If he killed Jaeger now, all the others would slaughter him. It was rapidly becoming clear how the new command structure would work out. Jaeger knew combat and, for better or for worse, this was a combat-oriented crew. Quillan was fine as a vice-captain but there was no way he could work as a captain.

"Then you decide how we should escape this island, Jaeger," sneered Quillan. "If ye know a better solution then speak up, we're all ears." It was an act of self-preservation that caused Quillan to concede the point but by turning it over to his main dissenter he was putting Jaeger in a terrible position. If Jaeger couldn't come up with a viable plan the crew would turn on him. Quillan offered a solution and some men surviving was better than no one surviving. The men were thinking about the odds of being chosen to be bait. This crew would sacrifice one of their own if it meant their survival. Ace being a navigator didn't mean he was off the menu. Injured and clearly not favored by Quillan, he would probably be the first offering.

Ace looked at his dagger while the men argued and remembered the way it had cut through the cocoon threads. Everyone else had needed to burn their cocoons, not him. Ace took a deep breath. Flint had been grooming him to be a captain. His long-term goal was for Ace to lead his own crew. This meant stepping up when he needed to, this meant figuring out solutions to problems that threatened his crew. If he wanted to be a captain, he couldn't meekly stand there and hope someone else would come up with a solution. Maybe he was just the cabin boy, maybe he was the weakest and lowest ranked member of this crew, maybe no one liked him because he wasn't like the rest of them. But he still couldn't, shouldn't, stand there and do nothing. There had been moments when the crew had listened to him, when they had followed his lead. Maybe this time too?

"I have an idea," said Ace, drawing the attention of the survivors. Quillan glared at him but Jaeger and Austin both nodded for him to continue. "My dagger can cut the threads of the spiders like it's wet paper. Web based spiders don't attack their prey until its safely tangled up, usually, and are not great jumpers. I think we can pick them off if they tried to attack and I can cut through the threads and free the ship."

"Why should you be the one to cut the threads?" asked one of the men.

"Because whoever is cutting the threads won't be able to fight the spiders," replied the bosun on Ace's behalf. "That's Ace's only weapon and he can't fight well in his condition, if we give it to someone else, he'll just stand there and look pretty. We need all fighters to hold off the spiders while Ace cuts the threads."

The men looked at each other and started nodding. It seemed viable to them. They could free the Maiden and the spiders that were on it would come to them, fighting them on their terms. They were certain they could handle that.

Quillan conceded with a grunt but still added, "We only have eight men now and that ship needs ten to sail."

"Nine," said Ace. "I think. Scottie stayed on the ship and may be below deck."

"Not ten? Quarken stayed on the ship as well," said Austin.

Ace shook his head. "I found Quarken in the woods, he was already dead. The spiders did prove they could open doors, but hatches may be beyond them, especially the ones to the lower hold."

"Then we may still have our shipwright and one more crewman," said Jaeger. "If he didn't blindly blunder into that mess." He gestured toward the winking webs. "One thing's for sure, we can't afford to lose any more men. Ready, though she is, we won't be able to pull into port easily if we don't maintain this skeleton crew."

Everyone was silent at Jaeger's words. Everyone understood the shift in thinking this would require. They could work together well enough to sail a ship and maintain a ship, but in battle, Flint was the only thing that kept them from aiming at each other. Their survival instinct was to shoot the other crewman to save themselves if necessary. In this situation they would have to watch each other's back in order to escape.

Command was shaky. Vice-captains were supposed to stand in for Captains but the bosun was the one stepping up. There was no trust and if things went badly Jaeger wouldn't be able to hold them. Right now, Jaeger's proposal had the best chance of everyone making it out. No one else wanted to risk the trapdoor spiders, but if the web spiders proved to be too much, they would change tactics. Possibly even reverting to the Quillan's original plan with a strong idea of who should be the bait.

Crackling drew Ace's attention back to the town. The fire Pyrus had started with his bombs had reached the town and, unlike the green trees of the forest, the dry timbers of the buildings were little more than kindling to the blaze. The flames leapt from roof to roof, sweeping through the town faster than they had cleared it.

"Looks like we only have one shot at this," said Austin as he watched the fire approach. "We either bait the trapdoor spiders or fight the web spiders. The fire will be on us in less than a minute."

"Once that fire reaches the shore it will claim these boats. We'll have more time to clear the Maiden and that fire could help sever the threads should it take the pier," said one of the men. "Baiting the trapdoor spiders will take too long and they might all be full anyway."

With that, the matter was settled. The men headed toward the ship. Ace limped along with Jaeger's help, though, he tried very hard not to be slow or show pain. However, his leg was done. He needed treatment and he needed rest, neither of which he would be allowed until they were safely away at least. More likely, not until they were at their next port. He didn't know what they were going to do once they got to their port of choice. This was not a crew that could stay together without Flint. The Headhunters were finished. It was just a question of who got the ship and the treasure. Ace would let them argue it out all they want. He was leaving as soon as they reached Osanato, the best candidate for their destination. Lots of ships moved through there and they could all find new crews to join.

As they approached the gangplank, the fine web threads came into view. Ace came to the front while the others raised their weapons waiting for the impending attack. Ace knew that when a spider's web was disturbed, they either retreated, if it was something big that bothered it, or attacked, if it was something small and potentially a meal. Years of spending rainy days watching spiders out of boredom were paying off.

Ace began to slash, focusing on the threads and trusting that the crew wanted to escape bad enough to actually do their jobs and watch his back. The threads fell away with each swipe of his dagger. They never strained or vibrated like they were hit, though. They just went slack. Soon he had cleared all the threads that bound the ship to the dock, leaving only the original mooring lines that they would cut once they were aboard.

"All these threads and not a single spider?" whispered Quillan.

"Ace's dagger is too fine," said Austin. "They cut the threads without disturbing the web."

"Only one way to fix that," said Jaeger. He walked up to the hold of the ship. "Everyone get ready." He pulled his leg back.

Screeches sounded behind them. Ace looked back. The fishing boats were on fire. The trapdoor spiders were running free of their burning lairs, covered in flames. None were heading toward the dock, which was slow to catch fire, the result of constantly being drenched in ocean spray. It looked like the entire island was now ablaze, Flint's last order was being fulfilled.

"Look alive!" called Jaeger, drawing everyone's attention back to him. He kicked the hull and the sound of movement immediately reached their ears. Jaeger jumped back to the group. Black spiders with spots of red on their fat abdomens appeared at the railing.

"Widows!" yelled one of the crew in horror. Ace swallowed and raised his dagger as he balanced on his one good leg. Black Widows had nasty bites when they were normal sized, they would be instant death at this size. They rushed the group and the gunman fired on the arachnids.

The spiders fell in death, like all the others, they weren't strong, just fast and terrifying. The rail cleared and no more could be seen. The men hurried up the ramp, keeping an eye out for more spiders. Once on the deck, they spread out.

"Keep your guard up and your eyes open for stragglers," called Jaeger. "Cut the lines and take the helm. It's time we left this accursed isle."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jaeger was always the better crew captain. Quillan was there for the business deals. Too bad Quillan forgot that.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	51. Quillan's Folly

Chapter 51: Quillan's Folly

Ace began to head up to the helm. He could at least steer the ship. As he paused at the top of the stairs to steel himself for the walk across the deck to the wheel, he spied the wide-open hatch. Had Scottie absentmindedly forgotten to close it when he went below or had the spiders pried it open? Some of the widows from earlier had probably been below deck, which was why they had reacted so quickly to the hull being kicked. Were there anymore below? The thought chilled him.

"Bosun, we might have a problem below deck," called Ace pointing at the open hatch. Jaeger looked and cursed.

"Eric, go into Quarken's office and get the fumigant," he ordered. "We're going to need to light one and toss it into the hold before we send anyone down there." One of the men nodded and headed to the late doctor's cabin.

"What about Scottie?" asked Ace. "He could still be down there? And doesn't that fumigant have a tendency to soak into everything?" He remembered too well how sick it could make a man who breathed it in.

"We can't afford to enter a spider's nest. They have the advantage down there," replied the bosun with a pained look. "Besides, Scottie never closes the lower hatch when he's in the engine room. The air is too stagnant."

In other words, if the spiders got passed the first hatch, Scottie was already dead.

"It's all fine that yer plan worked," said Quillan, striding toward Jaeger. "But I think it's time ye remembered who's in charge here."

Ace rolled his eyes, recognizing it for the continuation of the earlier argument. Their power struggle over this skeleton crew was not his concern. Honestly, why was Quillan even bothering? They would all be going their separate ways soon enough.

He limped over to the helm and focused, instead, on changing their heading. The ship had already sailed clear of the smoke, with the stars out he was able to set a rough heading for Osanato. His practice with navigation had used it as one of his destinations. He still remembered how to get there, though he intended to still get the chart book to double check the finer details, once they were clear.

Jaeger rolled his shoulder back and held his hands to his side, ready for a fight. "Don't think now that the danger is past you can go and be Captain. I got what's left of us back on the Maiden when you would have shrunk the crew and taken dinky fishing boats to who knows where. I'd be mad to hand this crew over to you."

Everyone had stopped what they were doing, including Eric who was supposed to be getting the fumigant. Ace was a bit worried about that. The hold was still exposed. If something was down there, it could crawl out while everyone was distracted by the bosun and the Vice-captain. Ace felt his heart rate increase and started visualizing long jointed legs emerging from the dark gap in the deck. Ace shook his head to clear it. He was probably feverish from his injury and was beginning to hallucinate threats not yet there.

The men were about ready to come to blows and the others looked like they were about to start taking bets. Business as usual when they really couldn't be affording this. Ace felt his temper rise and, between his pain, his new anxiety and the stress from everything that happened, he did something he had been conditioned over the last eight months not to do. He snapped.

"Oh for the love of Calypso, will ye scunners get yer heads out of yer asses and focus on more important things?" he yelled, doing a perfect replica of Flint's manners and accent. He didn't know how he had managed to acquire the mild Scottish accent of his late Captain, but it did get their attention.

"We have spiders in the hold that we need to poison before they crawl up here and get us and ye want to waste time arguing over who gets to command this old ship." There was no time for Ace to cough and rid himself of the Scottish bur that continued to affect his speech. He did manage to drop the curse words. "If ye huvnae noticed this int a crew. We're just a bunch of mangy sea dogs who happened to be on the same ship with the common goal of not wanting to die. So how about we stop pretending to be anything more than that. It doesn't matter who's in charge now, so long as we get to Osanato in one piece. After that, whomever want to claim the Maiden can have their duel of blood and fire and crown themselves Captain.

"As for me, I am getting off this cursed ship. I am done with all the backstabbing and abuse that ye people dish out on a daily basis. Flint's gone and I have no reason to stay anymore, but it doesn't change the fact that we still need to get to Osanato before anyone can act on any decision they want to make. So how about we stop being daft and hold it together for the few days it will take us before we arrive?"

Jaeger and Austin's faces were neutral as they stared at him. The four grunts looked annoyed and Quillan looked furious. Uh-uh! He may have overplayed his hand, and talking like Flint, which had both amused and alarmed Flint in the past, may have made it worse.

"Fancy yerself a captain now do ye?" said Quillan, his eyes glinting.

Ace coughed and made a small adjustment to the wheel; they had slipped off course while he was yelling. "No, I'm just hurt, tired, hungry and wanting everything that happened on that island to be done and over with," he said, relieved to hear his normal manner of speaking returned. "And if I wasn't busy steering the ship, I'd be grabbing the fumigant and tossing it in the hold myself. You all are wasting all the effort to escape that island by killing each other over this pointless issue."

"These matters are not pointless!" snapped Quillan.

"The Headhunter Pirates are dead, Quillan," said the bosun in a low voice. "The boy has it right. We didn't just lose fighters, we lost critical crew that made this ship function. We lost our navigator, our shipwright, our cook and our doctor. These are not just people we can replace at a drop of hat, every one of them had been on the crew for years and Flint was lenient with because he knew he couldn't just replace them. The people that could be replaced are probably done with the ship, as well. We were all on this boat because of Flint and you're not Flint. You were his business partner not his replacement, should things go wrong."

Quillan looked like he would burst a blood vessel, but Jaeger just crossed his arms. "My only concern now is getting the rest of us to a port. Nothing else matter after that. I'm not trying to take over the ship, but I have served for years keeping things running smoothly and can still do that, now. You were never involved in that part of the process. I don't trust your judgement on this matter as a result. So no, I won't yield but only because I don't want to lose any more men unnecessarily."

"I can see why your angry, though," said Gillian with a sneer. "This is the best you're ever going to get. You're good at business but all the new Captains these days want adventure. You'd have to settle for being the accountant on some ragamuffin merchant vessel, but at your age they're not going to just accept you without credentials. And you won't have them."

_Not entirely true_, thought Ace as he recalled Flint's lessons on trade. _He'll have been registered as the financial officer aboard the Andrea but that only goes back four years. The next East Blue record is twelve years ago. He won't be able to explain the gaps since merchants doesn't cross the Grandline. He really will have to retire with little to show for all his years since most of the gold is in Angelina and not on the ship. Oh Hell!_

Too late, Ace realized the danger to himself. Flint's chart book with the way to Angelina was onboard and he knew how to read it!

The Vice-Captain stormed up to the helm and snarled, "Fine! The Headhunters are done! That's obvious. You all can leave whenever, there's the gangplank." He gestured toward the side of the ship and the ocean beyond. He reached Ace and grabbed his arm. "But what makes ye think ye are going to be leaving this ship, puppy?"

Ace blanched for a moment then spat back with false bravado, "Flint's dead. You can't stop me. I never wanted to be here anyway." He yanked his arm away but he couldn't retreat swiftly enough with his injured leg.

Quillan slapped Ace, knocking the young man away from the wheel and sending him sprawling to the deck. He stomped on Ace's injured leg causing him to scream as white agony ripped up his body.

"Quillan!" shouted the bosun, drawing his whip as he charged forward. The other men started to rush forward as well. They'd had enough of Quillan's pettiness. Both the bosun and Ace had made valid points and they were all still alive because of them as well.

"He's the only one who knows now," said Quillan, raising his musket to point at the rest of the crew, causing them to freeze.

"Knows what?" demanded Austin, his cudgels out even as he held his position.

"The whereabouts of Angelina," replied Quillan in a low voice. "That island contains the entirety of Flint's wealth that he has accumulated over his thirty-three years as Captain of the Headhunter Pirates. That island cannot be found by any known methods. Flint stumbled across it my chance due to his unique navigation style and continues to locate it because of that same unique navigation style. A navigation style that no one else employs. A navigation style he taught Ace. Thanks for reminding me, Jaeger, I had almost forgotten about the training Flint gave Ace."

_Fuck!_ Ace held his injured leg, trying to summon the will to move. The Vice-Captain was looking away from him. However, at Quillan's revelation, the grunts switched allegiances, turning on the master gunner and the bosun. They in turn adjusted to face the more immediate threat near them, going back-to-back to better protect themselves. Flint's career treasure possibly rivaled the One Piece. No way were these men going to lose out on claiming a portion of that.

"Quillan!" shouted Jaeger. Now he was angry. "You know as well as I that Flint's treasure is stored within a vault on that island and that only Flint knew how to open it. Even if Ace knows how to get there, none of us will be able to get in."

"Vault?" gasped Ace, honestly confused. Flint hadn't mentioned a vault, even during his farewell. "What vault? No one said anything about a vault."

"Ye really expect me to believe he didn't give ye access to his vault, Ace?" sneered Quillan, turning to look at the cringing young man. He leaned harder on Ace's leg. Ace screamed again.

"Quillan!" This time it was Austin. "He doesn't know! Flint may have been planning to show him the vault after we arrived. He always did prefer hands-on demonstrations to just describing stuff."

"Well we can certainly try to open the vault, but we willnae be able to if we can get there. Ace stays on the ship. And besides, who said we were to head to Osanato? I certainly never did." Quillan spun the wheel wildly to the right and the whole ship leaned hard to starboard in response. The men below lost their footing.

"QUILLAN!" shouted Jaeger as everyone slid sideways across the deck. Jaeger, Austin, Eric and one other slid into the railing on the starboard side, narrowly avoiding tumbling over and into the sea. Gillian and another fell right into hold. Gillian managed to catch the side of the hatch and hold on, but the other man vanished below. A moment later the unmistakable chittering sound of the giant spiders was heard followed by the screams of the unfortunate man. The second one tried to pull himself back onto the deck, but the ship was still leaning, and it was all he could do to keep from falling in.

Quillan had lost his foot as well and tumbled toward the railing. The lean had been more violent on the upper deck, which was higher and had to travel farther for the angle of the ship. Ace already prone on the ground slid a bit but managed to arrest his motion. Quillan hit the railing and went over but caught it at the last second, stopping his fall. But like the man on the lip of the hold the angle didn't allow him the ability to pull himself back up onto the deck. His musket vanished into the water below.

Ace scooted himself over to the wheel and pulled it to port. The ship straightened and Austin was the first to rise to his feet, running over to the hold to try to pull Gillian out. They couldn't afford to lose any more men!

"Eric, the fumigant!" shouted Ace as he struggled to stand up while keeping the ship steady.

Eric rose to his feet and sprinted toward Quarken's cabin. Jaeger was heading up toward Ace and Quillan, who was still clinging to the railing. Austin pulled up on the man when Gillian yelled, his eyes widened then rolled.

"Austin!" cried Jaeger, he turned and rushed back toward the hatch, but he was too late.

Glossy black jointed legs emerged from the dark and grabbed the doomed man along with Austin and pulled both into the hold.

"AUSTIN!" screamed Jaeger.

Eric appeared with the fumigant bomb in his hand, fuse lit. He and Jaeger converged on the hatch. Quillan had finished pulling himself back onto the deck. He drew his pistol, aiming for the bosun.

Ace saw and shouted, "Jaeger, look out!"

Jaeger spun just as Eric pulled alongside preparing to hurl the fumigant into the hold. Quillan fired and kept firing. Jaeger went down and Eric fell forward with a cry, the fumigant bouncing twice before falling into the hold. Soon white smoke was emerging from the hatch.

Ace stared in horror. Eight men had escaped that island and now, thanks to Quillan's power obsession, only he and Quillan remained. Ace couldn't begin to fathom why the Vice-Captain would do this. Flint may have killed his crew at a drop of a hat, but he was smart about it. There was always a purpose behind it even if only to serve as a warning to the others. This was just a bunch of pointless deaths that served no purpose at all.

Quillan tisked then shoved his pistol back into his holster. He stalked over to Ace who could do no more than watch him come. His injured ankle preventing him from running when he needed to. The Vice-Captain grabbed Ace by his hair then reached passed him and pulled a lever that locked the wheel.

"What are you doing?" gasped Ace, gripping Quillan's wrist with one hand while the other tried to pry his fingers out of his hair. The man's grip was steel. Businessman he may be, but he was still a Headhunter.

"Doing what ought to have been done eight months ago," replied Quillan as he dragged Ace down the steps to the main deck and over to the mast where the floggings occurred. Ace struggled the whole way, but his injured ankle would not hold his weight and without its partner his right couldn't root itself. The Vice-Captain grabbed Ace's wrist and slammed it into the first cuff.

"Beat ye until ye understand yer place beneath my boot," finished Quillan. "Ye were his weakness. The fool got all soft on ye and allowed ye too many liberties. I saw the danger ye represented to his good sense and tried to rid ye from this ship but ye're a goddamn cockroach, even when stepped on ye dinnae die. I thought I finally got him to see sense and end ye after Syren but Rasputan interfered and then my station became negotiable. It was all because of ye."

Forced to stand by the first cuff, Ace struck Quillan and tried to keep him from forcing it into the remaining cuff. He risked hanging off the shackle to kick with his good leg, forcing the Vice-Captain back.

"It was you who told Miciron to sabotage my cannon?" cried Ace.

"Yes, it was me!" Quillan drove a heel into Ace's injured ankle. Ace howled and there was a decidedly loud snap and the leg lost all means to hold him up. The Vice-Captain drove an elbow into the young man's side then grabbed the remaining free hand and slammed it into the second cuff.

"Ye only still live now because ye're the key to Flint's treasure. Treasure I helped him acquire throughout these long years and have as much claim to as he does and better than all the rest of the crew." Quillan tore Ace's shirt, exposing his back. "Certainly better than ye!"

"I'm not going to give it to you!" growled Ace. "I'll die first!"

"I somehow doubt that," said Quillan. He grabbed Ace's pirate earring and yanked, hurling the gold pendant across the deck in the same motion. Ace yelped as the stud ripped his ear. "Ye wanted to die once but found a reason to live. I doubt that's changed. Ye'll yield."

"Motherfucker!" screamed Ace as he strained to see where it went, but he couldn't turn far enough. Anger and grief roared through him at the loss. Worse, fear came on their heels. Luffy's face appeared before him. He had to live if he was going to have a chance of saving his little brother. Arron's pendant burned against his chest, the dead man's face appeared, a mask of pure rage focused on Quillan, who remained oblivious to the dead's feelings.

"Why are ye distressed over that cheap trinket?" sneered Quillan as he slammed Ace's head against the mast. "Ye didnae even want to be a member of this crew."

Blood trickled down Ace's neck. "It wasn't yours to take!" he hissed. Quillan slammed him again then turned and walked toward the ship's castle. To retrieve one of the bosun's instruments of punishment, no doubt. Ace pulled at the cuffs, but they had been made to deal with men stronger than him.

Quillan returned minutes later with a long black whip. Ace's eyes widened in horror. It was the same one Flint had used on him when he was mad with rage. He had nearly killed Ace with it and, if not for Rasputan's magics, Ace would have been crippled. That was his intention! Ace didn't need to be physically fit to guide the ship, he just had to be alive and sound of mind. Frantic, Ace yanked at the shackles that held him in place.

_Ras!_ The Cossack had left just before everything happened in Murkwood. Ace didn't bother to think about how he had done it. Flint, himself, had said he could wander on and off the ship at will. Ace couldn't see that man losing to a bunch of spiders. Flint had been sick but Rasputan was healthy. "Ras," whispered Ace, knowing there was no chance the man would appear now to save him.

"Ye had this coming, Ace, with all yer defiance and attitude," said the Vice-Captain as he raised the whip. "So resign yerself."

"Don't do this!" pleaded Ace. "RAS!" he screamed as the first blow landed. Despair flooded him. Even if Rasputan appeared later, like he promised, there was nothing he could do to reverse the damage Quillan was doing to him now. The Vice-Captain would cripple him so he could never do anything for himself ever again. Then Luffy would die. Maybe he should let himself die and be spared having to witness that terrible event. A second blow followed, and Ace screamed.

Aaron's ghost stood before Ace. He reached out like he wanted to grab Ace but stopped just short of touching him. _Why am I see him so clearly now?_ he wondered. A third blow and Ace cried again. _I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I won't be able to get you to your family, _thought Ace, tears beginning to fall. A fourth strike. Luffy's smiling face appeared before him_. I'm sorry, Luffy! _A fifth.Garp's face appeared, stern but filled with compassion for him._ I'm sorry, Jiijii! _A sixth and now it was Flint as he last saw him, smiling his farewell. _ I'm sorry, Captain! _ Aaron's mouth opened in a silent yell then he shot upwards. Ace followed Aaron's movement and saw something in the mast above. He yelled at the seventh landed then he looked again at what was above them. The pain in his back and leg vanished as a different type of terror took him.

It stared back with eight black eyes, long jointed yellow and black banded legs spread out across the center of a web that had been partially obscured by the sails. It hadn't moved despite the motion of the ship as if it had been riding out a windstorm in the trees. It looked at Ace, seeming to notice him for the first time. A light filled those dark orbs and it dropped toward him.

_So, this is how it ends_, some detached part of his mind thought, expecting death. It didn't come.

Instead Quillan's whip struck the spider just as it landed on Ace. Angered by the attack, it abandoned Ace and rushed Quillan, who yelled in horror, dropped the whip and tried to draw his pistol. It landed on him and the Vice-Captain fought to get it off, screaming the whole while, and tumbled into the hold that was still filled to the brim in fumigant.

Ace gave a dry laugh then laughed again until he was crying. He was still locked to the mast and had no way to free himself. He was going to die like this unless someone found and boarded the ship. It was all so ridiculous. To survive these past eight months on board this hell ship only to die now.

A minute later a hand reached up to undo the cuffs. Ace looked over his shoulder. Jaeger, pale and shaky and covered in blood, stood behind him. The bosun unlatched one cuff then the other and Ace nearly fell to the ground. Jaeger stabilized him then encouraged him to start moving back toward the cabins.

"I know you're hurt but I need to get you to Quarken's cabin for treatment. I'm not in any condition to carry you so you need to try to carry yourself," said Jaeger.

Ace looked at him as he hobbled as best he could, his left leg was broken but his right was strong. "I should help you first. You were the one who was shot. He didn't hit as hard as Flint; the cuts aren't as deep, and my leg can wait. I'm so glad you're alive!"

"Even though I gave you plenty of hard beatings, myself?"

Ace was silent for a moment. There was so many things he could say on the matter but settled instead on saying, "You're the bosun, it's your job to enforce discipline."

"Heh, you're really a kind soul, aren't you, Ace," said Jaeger then he sighed. "But I fear your celebration is too early and your concern unnecessary. I won't feel my pain much longer."

"What?"

"A few gun shots I can handle, if not immediately fatal, but I fell next to the hatch and breathed too much of that fumigant. The shifting wind spared me a more immediate fatal dose, but without Quarken, I won't recover."

"Jaeger…"

Jaeger pushed his way into Quarken's cabin and went to the shelves for the medical supplies. "I can handle wounds like yours but poison…" He shook his head. "Only Quarken could have created the antidote I need."

"Jaeger…"

Jaeger smiled weakly at Ace. "Let me do this one good deed, Ace. I am responsible for the wellbeing of the crew, that has always included you. You gave us the solution to escaping that island. It isn't your fault that Quillan went mad with power and destroyed everything."

Ace lowered his head not knowing what to say to all that.

"You're really are a kind soul," said the bosun as he gently placed a finger beneath Ace's eye to catch the tear that had formed unknown to the young man. "I think too kind for this way of life. Roger's son or not, maybe you would find more happiness as something other than a pirate." Ace said nothing his mind too fuzzy as exhaustion demanded his full attention.

Jaeger patted the examination table. "Now lay down on your belly and I'll fix your ankle and back."

Ace complied; there wasn't anything else he could do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I can kind of get Quillan's logic, he spent a lifetime helping Flint acquire his loot and he was about to be cut out of "the will" so to speak, but his choice of action showed how not capable he was as a possible captain.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	52. Tears for the Lost

Chapter 52: Tears for the Lost

When Ace awoke, he was alone. A single lamp burned at a low flame to conserve what oil it had. He was lying on his back with a damp cloth on his forehead. The cloth was warm, signaling it had been awhile since it was placed there. His injured leg was propped up and wrapped in a split. His torso was wrapped in bandages and his back only ached instead of throbbing from the blows he had taken before the spider had descended. His left ear stun and he raised a hand to feel a small bandage there as well.

On a stand next to his bed was a tray with bread, cheese, an apple and a mug of water. Things that could be scrounged from the kitchen since everything in the hold was ruined. It was also food that could wait to be eaten and didn't need to be heated. A set of crutches leaned against the wall on the other side of the stand but within arm's reach. A folded piece of parchment rested by the food along with his earring, still bearing dried droplets of blood from when it had been ripped off. Jaeger had found it and brought it here.

Ace sat up and hissed as waves of agony rolled up his injured back along with the familiar tingling sensation of Quarken's special healing ointment. Most likely crafted by Rasputan for the late doctor's use. He waited a moment for the throbbing to subside to bearable then reached over to grab the note. He began to read, dreading the message he was certain was Jaeger's farewell.

_"Ace,_

_I located your earring from where Quillan tossed it. If you didn't want it back, feel free to throw it overboard, but I thought that should be your right, not that traitor's. Your wounds should heal clean, you always did respond to Quarken's ointments well. I was able to straighten your leg, now it just needs time and rest. The earlier sprain wasn't bad, and the break was simple. You heal pretty well on your own, so if you let it rest it should be good as new soon. _

_I spied a small cliff island that I can tuck the ship into. She'll be safe from storms and anyone looking for ships. Once you're up to it, free the sails and raise the anchor. In that order. Don't worry, the Maiden's Sorrow may not be made of the legendary Adam's Wood, but her iron wood hull can take a few bounces off these rocky cliffs with no damage, so don't worry about scraping her. _

_Get yourself to Osanato and find a crew you can live with. I don't know if you can put together a crew at your age, but there should be plenty of crews you can join there that will give you everything you need, minus the backstabbing. I know you'll be something great. The captain saw it and I started seeing it too, later on. You're strong and young and you got through all this without losing sight of who you are. That's more than any of us can say._

_If the knowledge gifted to you is of any use in the future, then don't hesitate to use it. When I overheard Rasputan and Quarken talking about the captain's deteriorating health I was at a loss. It was Austin who suggest we stick with you, would have been hell of awkward, but it might also have been fun. You reminded me of why I went to sea. You reminded us all of that. Scottie, Austin… even the captain. I know that's hard to believe but you put a spark back into us that we hadn't realized we lost. Flint wanted to give it all to you, I think. That's why he was teaching you so much._

_I still can't believe we found that little boy who was recklessly picking fights with grown men from so long ago. Stand strong, boy, and don't ever lose sight of yourself._

_Good luck,_

_Joseph Jaeger, Bosun of the Maiden's Sorrow"_

Drops appeared on the page as Ace read Jaeger's final account to him. His mind reached back as he remembered that encounter from long ago. What strands of fate had bound them like this, and which god had made it so, Ace could only guess. The bitterly ironic part was that terrible day had been the day he met Sabo.

Ace wasn't sure if he and Sabo would have become friends if not for the Dancing Bear incident. Ace hadn't felt like he was worthy of friends and only went into town to pick fights with petty pirates. Sabo had been new to Grey Terminal and had been hanging around the Dancing Bear Tavern because of the barmaid, Mia, while he adjusted to life on the streets.

Something good from something bad.

Ace wiped his face. He needed to take stock of the ship as well as his own condition. It would give him something to think about other than the storm of emotions currently rolling around within his heart. He lowered his injured leg to floor with as much care as possible. He had passed out when Jaeger had straightened his leg and he knew if he reinjured it now, he would spend the rest of his life crippled. Maybe he should stay in bed.

He paused once he was sitting on the edge of the bed and forced himself to eat the food Jaeger had taken the time to retrieve for him. He had to concentrate to avoid gagging on the simple meal, not because it was awful but because his stomach was rebelling against the concept of digestion itself. He felt sick in so many ways. He sipped the water to clear his throat and returned the mug to the table. Once his stomach had stopped protesting, it set about its job, grumbling unhappily all the while.

Ace reached across the table and picked up the earring pendant. He took the slightly damp towel and wiped the dried blood droplets from it. Despite being tossed it suffered little damage. He removed the pendant from the now useless stud. If he ever chose to wear it again, he would need to get a new stud and re-pierce his ear. He held it to his lips as he tried to sort out his feelings about it.

Something good from something bad.

For all his terribleness, Flint had, ultimately, saved him. He could never pretend this time never happened. He could never forget everything he had learned and experienced here. He had learned much. Things he needed to learn if he was to become a captain that would surpass his despicable father. Ace tucked the pendant into his cargo pocket. For better or for worse, he had been a Headhunter. He would keep the pendant as proof of his time aboard this ship.

He took a deep breath to steady himself then retrieved one of the crutches waiting near the bed. He would have liked to use both of them, but then he wouldn't be able to carry the lamp. He hobbled over to the door, careful not to place any weight on the injured leg, and out onto the deck. It was dark on the deck, a full day had come and gone. The wind moaned as it moved around the rock cliffs the ship was anchored among. Ace looked up at the sky, clouds were moving in and the smell of a storm was in the air. The ship creaked as it rocked in the rising chop.

Ace looked across the deck. The hatch was still open, so the hold had aired but the residual poison on the wood and items would still be present until it fully evaporated. That could take days and the lowers hold would be even longer, the whole reason for the cleanup was to shorten the detox time for the ship. Even after it was finished, everything down below would still be compromised. Anything edible was ruined and all the cloth would be hazardous to touch for who knew how much longer. It would have to be washed first and Ace would have to wear long sleeved gloves and leather apron to make certain he didn't get any of the potent toxin on him.

There was no way for him to do that even if he was inclined to go below deck. The gear for cleaning the holds was stored there and just as tainted as everything else. The gear would need to be washed before he could use it, inside and outside. With no way to reach the gear and safely wash it, everything else below deck was beyond his reach. He would have to make do with whatever was in the galley and officer quarters.

Having just eaten, Ace headed into Flint's cabin. Unable to do anything else with his leg still injured, it seemed like a good time to go over the charts, determine his whereabouts and plan the fastest route to Osanato. He had to continue to Osanato, there was no other choice. It was the best place for him to go to either find a crew of his own or join another. Ace suspected it would be latter. Who was going to follow an unknown seventeen-year-old to the Grandline?

He looked up at the shelves of books, all worth more than their weight in gold. He smiled a little as he remembered Flint's enthusiasm as he went over them with Ace, like a boy and his bug collection. Ace's smile faded, Flint had wanted to teach him more, to have Ace develop more as a sailor and future Captain.

"I'll just have to study this myself and not waste it. Who knows how long I'll be stuck here," Ace muttered aloud since the silence was getting to him. Large ships were spooky without a full crew to fill it with life even if it was just the thunder of a dozen snorers.

He pulled a book off the shelves and hobbled over to Flint's desk. Placing the lamp and book on it, he sat in the chair that had a modification for propping Flint's bad leg up. Ace had injured the same leg and was able to use it to support his injured foot. He then began rifling through Flint's drawers looking for paper and pen as well as oil for the lamp. His was getting low.

In one of the bigger drawers, Ace found the ship's logbook, a large, fat book with leather threads going through the leather front and back and the inner pages. He hesitated then pulled it out, grunting from the effort, and opened it one it was he had on the desk. Flint was such a confusing enigma of contradictions that having the chance to finally get some insight into his mind put his own self-appointed study session on hold.

The first entry was dates thirty-three years ago, when he had started his pirating campaign. There was nothing from when he was Abrams. That logbook had been lost with the destruction of the Intrepid. He flipped through the book until he found the date of his arrival. He was more curious to know about Flint's thoughts on Ace's time on the ship, he would have time to go over the others and he.

_January 17, 795 in the year of the all mighty dragons, may they soon fall into the sea and sink, the slugs._

_Twenty-three degrees above the sea and four-fifty-three in the morning._

Ace snorted. He hadn't realized Flint's hatred of the World Nobles was so intense that he wrote a prayer to their destruction as part of dating his entries.

_We were passing through the fickle waters of the Alure Sea to throw off our pursuit. We had slipped the Marines hours ago when the wind died and left them dead in the water, are merry little engines keeping us moving along. I'm sure those poor fools are gabbing about my possessed ship to anyone who would hear them by now. _

_We had changed over already, or so I thought, when our lookout spied a small craft stranded in the calm. It appeared empty; the occupant potentially lost to dehydration since we were in the heart of the Alure's notorious calm. We were in need of a new longboat so approached in order to take the craft for our own. _

_As we approached a new wind began to blow and a lad rose from the bowels of the small craft in response. He was sun scorched but I could tell he had not yet completed his second decade. A stripling of a lad who, without doubt, had adventure on the mind when he went out to sea._

_We still needed the boat, so I brought her alongside the craft, and we let the lad climb up onto the deck. It was then that I thought the lad looked familiar, but it was Ras who figured it out first. The lad immediately got smart and started hurling insults as soon as he realized he was on a pirate ship. No one had taken the flag down yet when that should have been the first then switched out. I had words with those responsible later. But I digress._

_With his spitfire, I decided to take one more apprentice onto the ship. I had Rasputan hold him while I addressed the flag issue and not a moment too soon. The Marines were more dedicated than I had anticipated and soon arrived following the returning wind. It was only after I had politely sent them on their way, none the wiser to my true nature that I returned my focus to the lad._

_He was in the middle of being scolded by Rasputan, a rare sight from him. It was then that Rasputan alerted me to the truth. It was the lad from the Dancing Bear Tavern in Goa Kingdom that we paid a visit to twelve years ago. Roger's boy. Looks like he still hadn't learned when and where to pick his fights. Looks like I'll have my work cut out for me to whip this little puppy into the war dog he is meant to be. I do love a challenge, for all that it frustrates me most times._

Ace sat back and rubbed his eyes. He probably should be increasing the flame rather than reading in the dim light.

"That's right, the spikes were down, and the banister markers were up, but the black flags were still flying," muttered Ace. The crew had suffered a mass flogging that day. "Welcome the Headhunters, Ace, this is what ye can expect when ye fuck up," said Ace is his perfect Flint accent.

Lightning flashed, lighting up the room and blinding Ace. A half a minute later thunder rumbled. How fitting. It was still several miles away, but it was coming. Ace looked down at the logbook and placed a marker in the page he was on then skipped ahead to a blank page. Until he arrived at Osanato and joined a new crew, he was still a Headhunter and as the most senior member left onboard the ship, he was the captain. He needed to update the log on what had happened. Flint had always been religious about keeping his logs up-to-date and insisted it was one of the most important duties for a captain to perform when not keeping everyone alive.

He paused to read the last entry, written just before they had arrived at Murkwood.

_September 1, 795 in the year of the all might dragon, may they soon fall into the sea and sink, the slugs._

_Ten degrees above the sea and ten-sixteen in the morning._

_The Kingpin's greed has closed Desoro to me. I am truly in a bind now that my main port for repairs has decided to rescind their welcome._

The sarcasm of Flint's entry was not lost on Ace, who rolled his eyes before continuing.

_Fortunately, I was already planning our departure from this sea. This is why I never close a deal in that place until my ship is fully repaired. You never know when someone will stab you in the back._

_Though, I imagine this is going to cost the Kingpin his domain. Greed is always a short-sighted vice whose consequences appear further down the road. Between the riot that broke out with the unofficial lifting of the ban and the fire Young Ace set all over for his own purposes, the entire port is now lost. Who knew that lad was a budding pyromaniac? I guess he just needed the right motivation._

Ace pursed his lips and glared at the log as if it were Flint. "I am not a budding pyromaniac," snarled Ace. "The port was already on fire I just used it to cover those people's escape."

_The Marines probably will clean it up now that its underbelly had been exposed. I'll have to avoid East Blue for the foreseeable future. In truth, though, with the way my health is going, this will be farewell. I rather suitable departure in that respect. I always did say I preferred to light the sea on fire when I leave an ocean. This time it's a literal burning._

_Unfortunately, the fires of the port scorched the vessel. I'll need to clean the ship of the ash before we enter the Grandline. The Marines will undoubtedly be looking for smoked vessels that escaped Desoro. While we are traveling through a sparsely patrolled area, I can't count on their search to not include this area and showing up in the Grandline smoked will definitely catch their attention._

_Murkwood is up ahead. A small town that keeps to itself. A perfect place to stop and finish scrubbing the ship. We will arrive in a few days._

Ace sighed, picked up the pen and began to write.

_This entry is being written by Portgras D. Ace, Cabin Boy of the Headhunter Pirates._

_What day it is today, I'm not sure._

_Where I am, I am equally unaware of at this moment._

_We arrived on Murkwood right when Flint predicted. Despite the ominous signs that something was amiss, we went ashore anyway. A critical lapse in judgment on the captain's part and it proved fatal. The entire island had been besieged by giant man-eating spiders. Despite our desperate attempt to escape, the majority of the crew fell, including the captain._

_I don't know if Scottie left the hatch open when he went below or if the damned things pried it open, but the widows had made a nest within the hold. Those of us that managed to arrive back at the ship had to contend with them. The bosun ordered for a fumigant to be tossed below with the majority of our supplies still in the cargo. All of which are now tainted and useless._

_This was a small issue given that we were only eight men. We could have sailed back to Osanato with what we had above, but the Vice-Captain couldn't handle that the bosun was the wiser leader for the ship. He sabotaged our course before firing on the bosun. He single-handedly caused the death of six of the surviving men and ruined any chance of this ship being able to arrive in a port safely. He ultimately was taken by one last intruding spider that had been hidden in the sails. Both of whom fell into the poisoned hold._

_The bosun, though, fatally wounded, settled the ship in a sheltered area after treating me for the wounds I suffered. He perished after he accomplished his task. I don't know how long I was unconscious. I think it was only hours, but it could have been a day. Once the storm has passed, I will have to handle this ship all alone and reach Osanato. I fear I will have to let her crash into the cliff after I disembark in one of the longboats as I will have no way to pull into port without putting everyone else in danger._

Ace closed his eyes and felt fresh tears slide down his cheek. His mind started to race as he remembered the last eight months on board. It was mostly bad. He had lived in fear and pain for most of it. There had been no friendship to be found yet his mind began to play the small parts that had made the ship almost seem normal. Helping Scottie with the engines, the navigation lessons with Flint, learning to fire a cannon with Austin were just a few moments that came to mind.

Camaraderie wasn't a thing on this ship, yet humans were social creatures that couldn't exist without it. For the officers, there had been some. It was a pitiful amount when compared to other places, but it had been there. Jaeger had told Quillan he was helping Ace because Ace was the ship's only navigator, Ace now realized it was a lie. The letter had proved otherwise.

Thunder rumbled again and Ace turned the pages back to read through the entries. What had been Flint's motive? However, when he was done, he was no more certain of Flint's motivations for favoring him than he was before. What had Jaeger been referring to in his letter? He could see Jaeger and Austin even Scottie but not Flint.

Another flash and thunder followed twenty seconds later. The storm was getting closer. Ace rose from the chair and grabbed the lamp and crutch. He needed to go to the galley and bring some of the food to the cabin. He didn't want to go out again once the rain started to fall and he was going to be there for some time.

He had a lot reading to do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ace goes on to have mixed feelings about the whole experience and the crew.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	53. Farewell to Flint

Chapter 53: Farewell to Flint

Vice-Admiral Desiree stood among the blackened remains of the small lumber/fishing village of Murkwood Island. She didn't know what had happened here only that all the bodies were in the burnt-out forest and none were in the town, save for the gigantic arachnids that lay curled up everywhere. She shuddered, her mind playing out the likeliest scenario.

She had no evidence that Flint had been to this island. Not yet at least, but it was in between the ruined port of Desoro and the Calm Belt which she was sure he was making for after burning the pirate port to the ground. She wasn't sorry to see the lawless island taking down and wondered what the Kingpin had been thinking to infuriate Flint that much. The man's greed had outpaced his common sense.

Desiree had intercepted a ship that had been escaping Desoro filled to the brim with the ex-slaves of that horrid city. Some had been employed by the organization that ran the port and others had been captives. All told the same story. A young man with black hair, wearing black shorts, a yellow open front shirt and an orange hat had freed them then helped them steal a ship and covered their escape with loud explosions.

The fighting and burning had already been in full swing when he did these things and his explosions had destroyed the ships of many pirates allowing the Marines, led by her, to swoop in and net the whole lot of them. It was going down as her greatest accomplishment and she was to travel to Headquarters to receive her Commendation. She snorted in disgust. All she had done was clean up after Flint.

Desiree didn't want to go to Headquarters or receive anything, she wanted to capture Flint and rescue Ace, now more than ever. Ace, despite his horrid circumstances, had taken the time, at great risk to himself, to rescue victims of illegal slave trafficking in East Blue. He would be a perfect Marine! He already had the right attitude, the resilience and the quick thinking that would propel him through the ranks. She needed to get him under her direct tutelage, though. She could help work out any trauma that Flint caused him without him having to worry about being judged and she could protect him from those who would otherwise think poorly of him. He would definitely prosper with her guidance if she could just catch that man!

She sighed and looked out to sea where her three ships sat. One of them was outfitted to cross the Calm Belt. If she went to Headquarters, it would be to give Akainu a piece of her mind. It was only when the paddle ship linked up with hers that she learned about Akainu boarding the Andrea. The Marines on the paddle ship had witnessed the incident and were able to describe it to her in great detail. It blew her mind how badly Akainu had botched it.

Flint had balls of steel to invoke the Fleet Admiral like that and when had he gotten friendly enough with Garp to acquire a direct line to him? What had they discussed when Garp boarded a couple months ago? But it wasn't a surprise Flint was making a beeline for the Grandline after that! At least Akainu's actions hadn't helped any.

Desiree had studied Flint's pattern of behavior in other Blues. She knew when he hit something particularly spectacular, he was planning to abandon the ocean he was in and go to ground for a while. He wouldn't stay in an ocean that was facing intense scrutiny. There was no way to tell how quickly he disappeared, though, since she could only follow his pirate activities, but he had never been so flamboyant about his departure before.

He was rushing and part of that reason had to be Akainu's visit to his ship. He hadn't expected to draw the attention of such a dangerous foe. Even with Akainu ordered home without revealing anything, Flint would have felt the need to disappear before another admiral arrived to take the lava man's place.

The worse part of the story had been the number of times Akainu had turned his back on Flint while Flint was in striking range. The Marine attendants had also described Flint's apparent back problems that caused him to reach inside his coat to support himself. Desiree had paled at that as did her men. Flint had been reaching for a weapon, she would stake her entire career on it. However, in the end all he had pulled out was the Den Den Mushi to call Garp. Akainu had been dangerously close to dying that day and he didn't even know it. She didn't know what had made him change his mind about attacking, but, for the sake of the admiral's men, she was grateful. The self-centered fool could drop dead for all she cared.

Under interrogation the Kingpin admitted that he too had recognized the pattern in Flint's raids and had tried to rip him off, expecting Flint to want to offload the Eye of Erousha as soon as possible. He had forgotten that Flint could just as easily disappear with the Eye as without it. The fact that Desoro hadn't been murdered to the last whore was another sign of Flint's need for haste. True, the fire had started as a result of the fighting, but he hadn't taken the time to ensure everyone was properly dead before racing out of the port.

The Kingpin could not identify the wanted Captain, however. As much as he wanted to, if only he could pay him back for ruining his business. Flint, like some of the other Captain who did business at his port, preferred the services of a middleman at a separate location. The Kingpin had never laid eyes on the infamous criminal and the middleman assigned to Flint hadn't survived the carnage. Desiree had rolled her eyes at the man. If he had just followed his own rules, he'd still be safely within the wall of his own citadel, untouchable by the Marines. How ironic that he was going down for failing to uphold his own law. She could think of a few kings who needed to suffer such irony.

The escaped slaves were no help either, unfortunately. The workers had been trained to keep their eyes on the ground and never look their masters and betters in the eye. So, they could only identify Captains by their taste in shoes. Flint wore practical boots that any well to do Captain would and they were always a different pair. It was rather impressive even if it was completely useless to her. The captives hadn't been around long enough to know what anyone looked like. Sigh.

"Vice-Admiral!" called one of her subordinates. He was part of a group that had been searching the burnt-out forest. He would only be calling for her attention if he found something. She turned and he stopped before her, taking a moment to catch his breath he then presented what he found. It was scorched by flames but still intact, a cane with a gold cast eagle head on the top. She knew that cane.

She took it into her hands and turned it over, examining it thoroughly as possible. The brass tip showed the scuffs and warping of intense use and the etchings of feathers on the eagle head were almost worn off completely. She may have only ever seen it while Flint held it, but she was certain it was the same one. Flint needed his cane to walk, she was sure his limp wasn't faked. He wouldn't have left it behind for any reason.

"Was there a body with it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Vice-Admiral. There were many bodies in the area all of which had been burnt beyond recognition. Some of the bodies scattered about had weapons consistent with armed sailors, but there is no way to be sure," replied the man.

"And his crew had such high turnover we can't be sure all of them are here even if we could confirm their identity," she said.

She looked out at the skeletal remains of the fishing boats and pier. Blackened pylons and keels partially submerged were all that remained of them. There was no sign of Flint's ship, though. Even if she had burned as thoroughly as everything else, the parts underwater would have survived and be sitting on the floor of the bay. Her divers had already confirmed nothing was there. So where was the Maiden if Flint's cane was here? Had the mooring lines snapped before she was lit herself and the ship drifted out to sea to die a lonely death there?

"Vice-Admiral!" another Marine shouted. She looked up as a distinctly accented baritone spoke.

"About time you showed up, Desiree. I don't know how much longer we could have lasted on this accursed place.

A tall lanky man with a full dark brown beard, black fur cap and full-length red coat lined with black fur followed by a shallow skinned man with curly blonde hair and glasses. Desiree recognized the unusual fashion of the tall man. He was part of Flint's crew.

The two men walked with her subordinates who looked between themselves and her in confusion. She could guess what had happened. The two had found her men not the other way around. Were they going to bluff their way through this like Flint always did? They could pull it off since she still had no evidence that Abrams was Flint. Right now, all she had was proof was that Captain Abrams and the Andrea had met a tragic end.

Feeling confident with her superior numbers, she decided to speak straight with them and see how they reacted. "Where's the Maiden's Sorrow?"

The smaller one grimaced but the tall one waved his hand at the sea and replied, "She disappeared the night of the fire. She wasn't in flames so I'm certain she was being sailed. Flint left the sails open for a quick getaway because something seemed off. It would have only taken a few men to cut her loose and steer her out to sea."

"Ras! What are you doing answering her like that?!" cried the smaller man in horror. Desiree could scarcely believe it herself. He wasn't even trying to hide his crew's true identity.

The tall man waved his hand again in dismissal. "It doesn't matter, Scottie."

"What about us?" gasped the small man called Scottie.

"What about us?" replied Ras. Scottie went red face, sputtered but then fell silent. "The vice-admiral deserves the validation even if it no longer means anything." He stopped a yard away from Desiree.

"How considerate of you," said the vice-admiral, unnerved at the ease in which she was receiving this information. Three years struggling to identify and trap Flint. Trying to come up with a clever scheme to outwit that very capable Captain and this was how it all ended? She felt robbed.

"I see you understand you can't take anything I say and report it to High Command now that Flint is gone. With no solid proof this would only ignite a political firestorm that could potentially touch off a world war."

Desiree was stunned. He was one hundred percent right about the situation. "I can't believe you realize that."

He smiled. "Desiree, Flint and I are both attuned to the politics of the times. Flint protected himself by knowing where the Marines would be most helpless to act. The Trade Accords were the most convenient weak spot and the easiest. At least for someone as capable as him. A regular pirate could never pull it off."

_In other words, it wasn't that the Accords protected pirates, like Akainu believed, but that Flint was just that good_, she thought with a sigh. There were probably a few more capable pirates but not nearly enough to risk the war that would erupt if they tried to revoke the Trade Accords. People like Akainu would try to use her report on the connection between Flint and Abrams as a means to undermine the Accords without bothering to consider the long-term consequences of such actions.

"Flint is dead, Desiree," said Ras. He stepped closer; the vice-admiral glared a warning. "It was one thing if you could have taken his head yourself, but now…"

"You don't have to spell it out. You don't reach my rank without gaining some political savvy." She rolled her eyes as she thought of Akainu. "At least most of us don't."

"Akainu is the Gorosei's dog. He's a political time bomb but they are too enthralled with his blind adherence to their brand of justice. They'll make him the Fleet Admiral once Sengoku is gone."

Desiree shuddered at the thought. Akainu was no good for the Marines in the long term. She opened her eyes and saw that the tall man was now within arm's reach of her.

"You encroach on dangerous grounds, Ras," she said in low threatening voice.

He grinned and said, "It's Rasputan and if I were planning something unsavory it would have been done by now. I just want Flint's cane if you please."

Startled, she looked at the cane she was holding then back at him. "Why?"

"The World Government has a bad habit of thinking if they don't acknowledge something it won't threaten them. The spiders on this island were the results of old enemies beginning to stir themselves. This village, the crew, were just collateral damage. The cane is a powerful totem of hatred and self-loathing. It could be used in dark spells to summon far worse into this world and bring more suffering. It needs to be sealed away before it can be used."

Desiree stared wide-eyed at him. "Spells? Sir, magic is a thing of fantasy."

"You live in a world where snails allow someone to speak across great distances and even show images from other places, people gain various powers from eating certain fruit, and then there is the whole haki thing. You question the existence of magic in such a place?"

He had a point, Desiree conceded.

"Give this to Kong when you arrive at Headquarters." Rasputan tossed an item to Desiree. She caught it and looked at it. It appeared to be a wooden pot ornately carved with scorch marks on the inside as if something had been burning within it, but the outside was untouched.

"It took me seven days to render that thing inert."

"What is it?"

"It is what created these man-eating spiders. Give it to Kong. Bring up my name and the name Malquies. If he hasn't gone senile, he'll understand the rest. Tell him I said that his people need to stop burying their heads in the sand. You can't protect anyone if you remain ignorant of the full dangers the world has to offer. I will not train his people twice on things they should already know."

"Why don't you tell him yourself?" asked Desiree with a tone that implied an order.

Rasputan laughed. "I am done with the Marines. I've been done with them since Bernardino was allowed to die peacefully in his bed instead of hanging for his many crimes."

She didn't know who Bernardino was, she would look him up later, but she wasn't going to take no for an answer. What he had just said sounded extremely important. There was no way she was going to face the Commander-in-Chief of the entire military without this man there to explain himself properly.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Unfortunately, that ended up being exactly what she had to do. Despite insisting Rasputan and Scottie join her on her trip to Headquarters at gun point and locking them in a cell aboard the ship with several guards to watch them, somewhere on the Grandline, the pair vanished along with Flint's cane.

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And you all thought Desiree was going to get to use her clever plan. Hah! That was a red herring.

Meanwhile, what the hell was Rasputan doing when all that was going down?!

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	54. Wolfie, the Troll

Chapter 54: Wolfie, the Troll

Ace looked out over the waters of the East Blue. The Maiden was finally underway after a few love-taps with the cliffs that had sheltered her. Ace had nearly been thrown when she side swiped the cliff after he raised anchor. It had taken a couple of weeks for his ankle to heal enough for him to move around without crutches. Ace had then spent another week of making sure it was strong enough to carry him with light activity around the ship.

It was an exercise in patience that Ace rarely had but the consequences, should he rush, could be fatal. He kept himself occupied with studying Flint's books and reading the older logs. It was apparent from the way the large logbook was set up that Flint just added stack of paper to make new pages. The book was fat with an open spine to allow the additions as the binding was rethreaded with longer cords to hold the whole mess together. His whole thirty-plus-year pirating career was stuffed into it. Most of it was mundane, trade and sailing stuff. Flint had been meticulous in his record keeping even if he used euphemisms to describe his more heinous actions.

Ace learned that the heinous crimes against civilians that had made his reputation had been in the first eighteen months of his career as the captain of the Headhunter Pirates when his activity was heaviest, hitting multiple targets within a month. Once he had established himself, the trade ships and ports had just surrendered, and Flint had backed off taking more time between hits that marked his career from then on. Thus, the legend of the Ghost Ship had begun.

Flint had kept tabs on the news on copycats, even clipping the articles and pasting them into his log. The log had even contained his account of the Dancing Bear Tavern and Ace finally got his first hint of what had been running through Flint's head at the time. Flint had actually admired Roger and he couldn't stand the men's attitude toward any of Roger's kin. He had attacked Wright because he had threatened Ace and for insulting Roger. The slaughter-fest had been the result of having murderers for crewmen and Flint needing to maintain his reputation among his men as well as preserve his secrets. Which fell in line with what he understood about the man.

Ace returned his attention to the ocean ahead. He still had a couple of weeks before he reached Osanato and he had to be prepared to be intercepted by Marines in the interim. Ace accepted he would probably have to invoke his grandfather's name to avoid an execution should that happen. Though, Ace planned to tell a modified version of the truth about why he was alone on the ship, he was certain that the Maiden would be seized and given a thorough examination. When that happened every secret she carried would be exposed. There was no way for Ace to rid the ship of the incriminating evidence, thanks to it all being below deck which was still a health hazard.

Up ahead he noticed a number of vortices and rocks in the water. Seeing the danger, he turned the wheel to port to avoid the hazard. He was not going to crash the ship on a rock outcropping and get himself marooned on a deserted island.

As the wheel rotated, one of the spokes rose and on it sat the ship's resident wolf spider. It raised a leg as Ace stared at its large dark furry body.

"Oogie!"

Ace leapt away with a shriek causing the wheel to spin wildly to the right. The spider flew off and Ace swore he heard the distinct sound of "Ku ku ku" as it flipped backwards onto the deck.

Ace's heart pounded and he clung to the railing like it was a life preserver in a stormy sea. The ship leaned as it turned starboard then shuddered as the vortices' currents captured the vessel. Ace yelped and flung himself at the wheel trying to salvage the situation. The spider was nowhere in sight.

Ace pulled on the wheel, but the rudder refused to respond, the Maiden was already too far into the tangled currents. Ace spun the wheel one way then the other in attempt to ride his way through the rough seas and hopefully emerge on the other side of the trouble waters.

The Maiden creaked and groaned as she struggled through the gathering of whirlpools. The sails flapped, struck the masts and yanked on their ropes. It wasn't just the ocean that was in turmoil, the wind was in chaos as well. It tugged at her sails and pulled her in different directions from where her keel was being tugged by the vortices. Ace fought with the wheel. He glanced up at the sails. They needed to be taken in. He could thread the ship through the cross currents if he didn't have to fight the wind as well but there was no way he could leave the wheel for even a second. Ace grunted and pulled and pushed the wheel. The Maiden glanced a boulder, but her iron wood hull held.

"This would be a lot easier is she wasn't fully loaded," hissed Ace. The Maiden, due to her engines and smuggler hold, had a deeper draft than other barques. This served her well in fooling inspectors but right now this meant she didn't have as much give in the shallows. And Ace had just spotted the bare rocky cliffs of an island that the currents were circling. He looked to the currents beyond the ship's bow trying to gauge the distance and the speed he was approaching the internal vortices.

There was a chance he could skate the island if he timed it right and the currents would take him right back out. He pulled hard on the wheel; the ship moaned as she caught the thread he desired. Then a gust caught the sails and yanked her hard. Ace braced himself, anchoring the wheel's direction and he held the thread for a full thirty seconds as the wind tore at the sails. Then his injured ankle erupted in agony and collapsed. Ace fell and the wheel spun out of control.

The wind dragged the Maiden from her course, and she slammed into the rocks rising up them like they were a ramp. She came back down hard and buried her nose in the tidal pools beyond the rocks. Ace was thrown forward onto the main deck but avoided going over the railing. The ship rocked violently threatening to roll now that her rudder was free of the water. She leaned groaning all the while. The wind switched directions and she was pulled the other way, the angle growing steeper. Ace began to slide in the new direction. Her siding slammed the boulder that rested there, and Ace was thrown against the railing. With a moan she slid a few inches lower then stopped moving all together. The wind pulled and tugged at her sails and the masts creaked, but she didn't budge again.

Ace was slow to pull himself upright. Everything hurt. He looked around at the tilted deck, the rocks and raging vortices and punched the deck as he uttered every profanity he knew, a few were Flint's favorites and they were particularly colorful and seemed to describe his situation well. Once he was done venting his frustrations, he turned his attention to his injured leg. He removed his boot before his foot became too swollen to do just that. The action still hurt like hell.

Once the boot was off, Ace prodded the injury trying to determine if he the bone had broken again or if it had merely been unable to handle the strenuous activity. If it was the later then he just needed to let it rest a bit before using it again. If it was the former, he was in serious trouble.

Pain lanced his leg with each press, but he gritted his teeth and persisted. However, compared to the stabbing pain of bone shards digging into muscle, this was more the throb of insulted flesh. He didn't feel any bone movement beneath his fingers nor the piercing agony. It seemed the weakened joint hadn't been able to hold its own when he planted his feet and twisted. He would have to stay off it until the swelling went away.

The angle of the main deck wasn't too steep, but he wouldn't be able to safely hop. She was also far enough among the rocks that the waves were small and broken, only one in every few actually managed to get spray over the railing and it was only a few drops. However, it was enough to make the deck hazardous. Ace would have to crawl back to the cabin where he left his crutch. He paused and looked toward the island. He was still forty yards out with slick rocks and swirling currents between him and the shore. He sighed. He would need to be in good health before he could attempt the crossing.

"I should have waited another week in the cove," muttered Ace as he began heading back to the main cabin. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this, he just knew he would have to plan carefully because the next attempt to ride the current might just end him if he got it wrong again.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_A week later…_

Ace hopped the last few feet to the shore and let out a sigh of relief. The trip across the rocks had been worse than he anticipated, and he had almost fallen in three times in the crossing. He was grateful he decided to bring along a pack with some food and other survival supplies as he didn't think he would be able to cross back to the ship once night fell. He was going to have to sleep on shore for a while.

His ankle throbbed but held this time. He needed to get off his leg or he would be out of commission again for another week. He looked up at the barren coast and began limping up the shoreline. He had crossed when it was low tide, he needed to get to higher ground before he could pitch his tent.

The whole purpose of coming ashore was to get a better look at the currents and see if could plot out the best avenue of escape from the island. He would be taking his old dingy as she could handle open water even if it wasn't ideal. The mast had been removed when she was taken, he would have to rig a new one and a sail or be completely dependent of her oars.

Once he cleared the shoreline ridge, he spotted a small cave between two large rock formations. Ace smiled and headed toward it. The cave would be better shelter than his tent in the event of a storm. He would have to check to make sure nothing else occupied it first but something about the barren nature of the island did not lend to the idea of other creatures living here. Not good, food wise, but perfect safety wise.

Satisfied that nothing was living inside, he began clearing out debris and loose rocks before pulling out his supplies. He pulled out the tent sheet. There were no poles to go with it since it relied on the location having its own trees to pull from. It did have rope and nails and Ace stretched the tent sheet across the opening. Low tide had come in the afternoon and night was approaching. Nights here could get chilly due to the wind, he had learned.

Once the sheet was in place, he pulled out the lamp, oil and flint. There was no wood for a fire, the lamp would have to act as his heater, and he would be relying on his cape for warmth while he was ashore. Light-stones were only good on cloudy nights as moon and starlight could prevent them from glowing. He still had them with him and he placed them out where they could continue to harvest light. Who knows when he might need them?

He pulled out the fruit, jerky, bread and cheese along with the five canteens of water and set them on the ground. He grimaced; this was all that was left of the food onboard the Maiden. Most of the food the ship carried was stored below deck with only some kept in the galley. The food below deck was no longer safe to eat due to the fumigation. The canteens represented what was left of his water. He hoped the island yielded at least more water. Once he figured out how to get off this island, he was going to need these canteens full if he was to have any chance of making it to Osanato.

He yelped when he reached in the bag one final time and drew his hand out in haste. He peered in, nervous that the wolf spider had hitched a ride in his bag. Instead he saw one last fruit in the bottom of it. It was orange and round like a tangerine but spiky like a pineapple with a strange swirl pattern all over it. Ace gingerly pulled it out and stared at it wondering how he overlooked such an object when he was packing. Then again, he just been knocking whatever was edible off the shelves and into the bag.

The fruit didn't look all that appetizing; however, he would soon be without any food so he couldn't just throw it away. He set it aside determining it would be the last thing he ate if he hadn't found other food before then. He folded the now empty bag and laid it on the ground. It would act as his pillow when he slept. He then headed back out to take a look around while there was still some daylight left.

As soon as he stepped outside his ankle reminded him that he was supposed to be resting. Ace grimaced and adjusted his cape. He would just have to wait until tomorrow to examine his surroundings. He turned to reenter his makeshift camp.

"Oogie!"

Ace froze and turned his head slowly, his heart hammering. To his right sat the wolf spider that had caused him to crash into this miserable barren island. It held up its leg again in greeting. Sweat broke out all over his body even as his blood turned to ice, then he let out a scream and bolted in the opposite direction of the spider.

After he had run several yards, he stopped and turned to look back. The spider was only three yards away and sat on a rock. It waved its front legs at him and cried, "Oogie!"

Ace didn't run this time, but he did start cursing and swearing in a voice an octave higher than his usual. His ankle felt like it was on fire, he was probably going to have to rest all tomorrow as well, and now he realized he had developed an irrational response to all spiders because of Murkwood.

And Flint's pet spider was enjoying every minute of it.

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I know the spider was never named in the story. Her real name is Anya and she is Rasputan's familiar. However, Ace doesn't learn that for a few years. Instead everyone else is going to call her Wolfie, the Wolf Spider, because imaginative pirates are as rare as diamonds.

Next chapter is the last chapter for this story. So if you have anything you want to ask ask now so I can answer it in the final chapter's notes. There are planned sequels but it will be awhile before I post them. However, The Dancing Bear Tavern and other Shorts will contain short stories that involve Through Fire and Brimstone. Mostly it will be chapters that could have been, probably should have been, included in the main story but due to time constraints weren't.

In order to finish this I gave myself a deadline to write and edit the story. Inspiration that struck later would have delayed the project so instead those "missing chapters" are going in The Dancing Bear Tavern and other Shorts collection and not in order. I will mention where they place in the story at the top, so you won't be completely lost.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


	55. Epilogue: Osanato

Epilogue: Osanato

Ace and Deuce walked into the sitting area of Elisa's inn. The brothels did have more mundane areas for general rest even if the sex trade was their chief source of income. This allowed them to charge less for the general inn rooms, so it became the cheap place to spend the night if a sailor was strapped for cash and Ace and Deuce were strapped for cash.

Flint had always kept the paper money in his office and put the gold in the chests kept in the lower hold. He used the paper bills for purchases and paying the crew for their fun ashore. Gold coins clinked when carried in bunches, announcing their presence to pick pockets and inspectors. The bills could be hidden within clothes without making a sound. There had been sizable stack in Flint's desk, but Ace and Deuce needed to make a number of purchases in Osanato, so they had to spend their money wisely.

Ace had one card up his sleeve, though. Flint had kept the Eye of Erousha in his cabin after Desoro, probably because it would have been a huge task to shuffle cargo around to gain access to the smuggler hold and they hadn't had time to do that. Ace was prepared to accept any price for it as long it helped them get a ship and supplies. He was also hoping to get one more thing while in port, hence the reason he had sought out Elisa's establishment specifically. The madam of the brothel didn't disappoint. Elisa appeared within minutes of Ace and Deuce being seated.

"Hello, Ace-chan, it's been awhile" Elisa said with his usual feminine charm. Deuce looked between the two in confusion. Ace hadn't told him anything as he wasn't sure how Deuce would react to Ace being a former member of the Headhunter Pirates. Even if Deuce had come to terms with Ace being the son of Roger, Ace still wasn't sure how that had come out in conversation, Flint was something else entirely. Roger had been a nicer pirate than Flint and was safely dead for nearly two decades. Flint hadn't been dead long enough to be missed.

"Hello, Elisa-san," Ace replied, maintaining discretion since they were in a public venue and this was not the time or the place to shock Deuce with unnecessary surprises.

Elisa sat down next to Ace, and Deuce glowered at him. Then Elisa did what he typically did when engaging with a sailor, invaded Ace's personal space and put his delicate well-manicured hands on the young man. Ace did throw the madam off, they were in Elisa's inn and this was how prostitutes were supposed to act when they had patrons even when the business was of a more serious nature.

"I didn't see Captain Abrams or his ship," said Elisa. "I thought you were off to the other side of the sea."

Ace grimaced and replied in a low voice, "She went down with all hands two months ago. Deuce and I just managed to get into port after being shipwrecked. We're, honestly, parched, starved and not in mood for anything but a soft bed to lie dead in until morning. I am hoping for a more serious discussion about thing I'll need before leaving port and I'm sure you know all the best places to get the best deals."

Elisa's smile froze and his eyes hardened for a moment as he took in the loss of Flint. Then he relaxed and said, "I understand. I am glad you reached here safe and sound. I don't charge shipwrecked sailors."

"Thank you," said Ace. "I did scrounge up some cash from the wreck but with everything I need…"

Elisa placed a delicate finger on Ace's lips, silencing him. "You're aiming to purchase a ship and supplies and possibly interview potential crew to join you on your adventures, I imagine."

"Yes," said Ace, glad he didn't have to spell it out. He had guessed right about Elisa. He Flint's choice information broker as well as whore.

Deuce leaned forward and asked, "And how can a common whore help us acquire those things?"

Ace nearly slugged Deuce. He didn't think his new partner in crime meant any harm with his words, he was just being honest with his question, but his attitude could lose them Elisa's goodwill and aid.

Ace pulled Deuce close and hissed, "Deuce, Elisa is far more than a mere pretty face, she's an information broker. Don't insult her!" Deuce blanched and babbled an apology, however, Elisa looked amused instead of annoyed.

"So, you think I'm pretty, Ace-chan?" Elisa asked with a smirk, still remembering their last encounter.

Ace ignored the question and continued, "I know I said I have cash, but I also have an item that I need sold off that can supplement the cash in case it isn't enough." Ace reached into his pocket and held the Eye of Erousha low in the seat, so the table hid it from the view of other patrons while allowing Elisa to see it.

Elisa's eyes glittered with excitement then he looked at Ace and said, "I can make all necessary arrangements myself. What is the minimum you are hoping to get?"

"Whatever amount will get me what I need," said Ace. "I don't want to sit in port racking up bills waiting for the right price."

Elisa nodded and took the gem from Ace and placed it inside his sleeve. "I will make all the arrangements. You two are welcome to stay in our nice rooms, since I imagine the more luxurious ones would make you nervous." Elisa chuckled and Ace scowled, a blush creeping into his cheeks. Deuce raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Just focus on resting and fattening yourselves up for the journey ahead."

"Thank you," said Ace and he meant it. Elisa smiled and ruffled Ace's ebony hair before rising from the bench. Immediately Samantha appeared to take Elisa's place waving off the other prostitutes in the room so they would be left alone instead of plied to spend money on a girl. She served them their drinks and food and informed them that there was a bath they could visit before she took them to their rooms.

The men were thrilled to hear of the bathhouse, neither had washed in weeks save to splash sea water over themselves to cut down on the reek. The two men soaked while Samantha kept an eye on them making sure they didn't fall asleep and drown. She also made a point of washing their backs for them and helping them into their robes so they could head to their room.

Ace was tired and now that he was at port, the last couple months were catching up to him. He was burnt, weak and really _really_ just wanted to sleep in a bed and not on dirt or boards. He never thought he could be this happy for a bed with a mattress, pillow and sheets when he had spent his whole life sleeping on a futon. As soon as he laid down on the bed, he fell unconscious. He didn't even notice Samantha tucking him in and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving them alone.

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This syncs up with the One Piece Novel A that was written to show Ace adventures around One Piece's 20th anniversary. I haven't gotten a chance to read it, but I have read the wiki long summary. It's enough to know how Ace got his fruit and met Deuce, his vice-captain. So I am trying to sync Fire Prince with that story as much as possible.

The next story in the Fire Prince saga is Strong World. Yes, in Fire Prince it will be Ace, not Luffy, dealing with Shiki, the Golden Lion, and the Flying Pirates. I have a rough idea of how Ace gets mixed up with them. It involves a certain female *cough* Syren *cough* blackmailing him into helping her steal flying technology from Shiki.

I do plan to add more chapters to The Dancing Bear Tavern and other Shorts. As stated before it will contain the "missing chapters" from Through Fire and Brimstone.

However, the next writing project I will be working on for NaNoWriMo 2019 is Pluton which is part of the Dark Sea Chronicles and is a direct sequel to A Matter of Trust. It will feature Luffy, Law and Lance racing to stop Pluton from being used on Alabasta.

Huvnae: Haven't

Aye: Yes

Dinnae: Don't

Didnae: Didn't

Ye/r: You/r

Willnae: Won't

Widnae: Wouldn't

Numpty: Idiot

Nugget: Big idiot

Bimbot/Scunner: Nothing that should be said in polite company much less to your friends if you actually want to stay friends. It would be best to be an Olympic runner of both speed and stamina if you actually have the intention of calling anyone these terms so you can escape great bodily harm upon uttering them.


End file.
